ACHIUVV/&  SUN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  CHILD  of  the  SUN 


'WHAT  is  AN  ARROW  MORE  OR  LESS?': 

SEE  PAGE    102. 


CHILD  of  the  SUN 

E, 

CHARLES  EUGENE  BANKS 

Illustrations  by 
LOUIS  BETTS 


HERBERT  S.  STONE  fef  COMPANY 

ELDRIDGE  COURT,  CHICAGO 

MDCCCC 


COPYRIGHT     igOO    BY 
HERBERT  S.  STONE  &  CO. 


WAUPELLO,    THE    CHILD   OF   THE  SUN. 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS 


J 


I.  THE  ARCTIDES  .         .         .         . 

II.  THE  VILLAGE  OF  THE  ARCTIDES    . 

III.  MINNO,  THE  PROPHET        ;         ... 

IV.  PAKOBLE,  THE  ROSE        .         .         . 
V.  THE  CHIEFTAIN'S  FUNERAL        .         . 

VI.  THE  BUFFALO-DANCE     .         .         . 

VII.  THE  PIASAU      .         .         .         .        >. 

VIII.  THE  BIRD  OF  BEAUTIFUL  PLUMAGE 

IX.  THE  COUNCIL    .         .         .         .         . 

X.  FEAST  OF  WAUPELLO,  THE  FIRSTBORN 

XI.  A  CHILD  OF  THE  SUN 

XII.  THE  FAIR  CHILD  .         .         . 

XIII.  THE  GREAT  MYSTERY 

XIV.  A  NEW  VOICE  IN  THE  WOODS       . 
XV.  TIOMA,  THE  STORY-TELLER       .         . 

XVI.  AN  ANGRY  SKY 

XVII.  THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PIASAU    .         . 

XVIII.  THE  SUPREME  FESTIVAL          .         . 

XIX.  TlOMA    AND    THE    CHILDREN  .  . 

XX.  THE  WORD 

XXI.  THE  ARROW  OF  THE  SUN  .         . 

XXII.  ALL  VOICES  MERGE  IN  ONE  . 

XXIII.  THE  FIGHT  ON  THE  CLIFF         .         . 

XXIV.  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PIASAU  . 
XXV.  THE  DEPARTURE        .... 


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A  CHILD  OF  THE  SUN 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  ARCTIDES 

The  Arctides  differed  in  many  particulars  froni  the 
other  nations  of  Red  Men.  According  to  tribal  tradi- 
tion, they  were  descended  from  the  sun,  Hasihta  being 
their  first  earthly  father.  While  the  migrations  of  all 
the  other  Indian  tribes  were  westward,  the  journeys  of 
the  Arctides  had  been  ever  toward  the  east. 

To  reach  the  country  which  they  now  inhabited, 
the  tribe  had  found  it  necessary  to  cross  a  great  lake, 
or  water,  which  was  shallow,  narrow,  and  full  of  rocky 
islands.  But  far  worse  than  the  voyage  across  the 
water  were  the  terrible  fields  of  snow  and  ice  which 
they  were  compelled  to  encounter,  and  being  little 
accustomed  to  even  the  slightest  cold,  the  Arctides 
were  unutterably  wretched  until  they  left  the  frozen 
region  far  behind  them. 

When  the  Children  of  the  Sun  first  set  foot  upon 
the  new  shore,  the  earth  all  about  the  landing-place 


2  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

showed  itself  strewn  with  quantities  of  reddish- 
yellow  metal,  Antee,  the  copper.  Quickly  they  made 
for  themselves  spears  and  arrowheads,  and  the  many 
useful  utensils  needed  in  their  homes — cooking-pots, 
and  spoons,  and  knives  with  points. 

But  ere  long  this  metal  disappeared,  and  in  their 
travels  the  copper  vessels  were  so  often  lost  or  for- 
gotten that  nothing  remained  of  them.  One  piece  in 
the  Council  Chamber  was  the  only  trace  of  copper  to 
be  found  among  their  possessions. 

Powerful  and  numerous  as  the  tribe  of  Arctides 
once  had  been,  it  had  slowly  but  surely  diminished, 
until  only  a  few  scattered  villages  remained  on  the 
banks  of  the  Long  River. 

To  no  earthly  cause,  however,  was  the  destruction 
of  this  noble  race  attributed.  In  their  battles  with 
other  tribes  they  had  always  been  the  conquerors,  and 
in  great  learning  they  were  without  equal  amongst  the 
Indian  nations. 

When  the  men  of  the  tribe  went  forth  in  the 
chase,  they  did  not  return  empty-handed.  To  their 
bows  and  to  their  spears  fell  the  choicest  game,  until 
"May  the  fortune  of  the  Arctides  attend  you  on  the 
chase,"  became  a  maxim. 

Very  brave  were  they,  fearing  neither  man  nor 
multitudes  in  the  defense  of  their  liberty;  very  gener- 
ous were  they,  too,  for  when  once  the  fight  was  over 
they  tendered  every  kindness  to  the  conquered,  bind- 


The  Arctides  3 

ing  up  their  wounds,  bringing  them  water  and  food,  so 
that  none  might  suffer  needlessly. 

The  men  of  the  race  of  Arctides  were  tall,  lithe, 
and  muscular.  The  face  was  the  fine  face  of  the 
student;  the  slender  nostrils  quivering  with  every 
breath,  the  wide  eyes  gleaming  with  eagerness  and 
wisdom,  the  forehead  swelling  grandly  beneath  the 
long,  smooth,  heavy  black  hair,  the  chin  curved  like 
the  cleanly  trimmed  bow  of  their  birch  canoes. 
Proudly  erect  were  their  heads  on  their  muscular 
throats,  and  when  they  smiled  their  teeth  were  spar- 
kling white  between  the  curving  lip-lines. 

The  women  were  fine  as  the  men  were  noble. 
They  carried  the  unquenchable  beauty  of  the  tribe,  and 
the  warriors  of  other  nations  cast  longing  eyes  on  the 
maidens  of  the  Arctides,  so  dark  of  eye,  so  soft  of 
voice  were  they,  so  grandly  erect  they  walked,  girdled 
with  virtue.  Their  laugh  was  the  music  of  the  thrush, 
rippling  from  their  ruddy  lips.  Like  crowns  above 
their  beautiful  low  brows,  they  bound  their  glorious 
dark  hair,  or  let  it  fall  like  a  robe  over  their 
shoulders. 

With  willing  hands  they  wove  the  soft  baskets  for 
the  new  corn  and  sweet  roots  dug  from  the  earth,  or 
wrought  ever  so  cunningly  the  necklaces  and  girdles  of 
their  tribe. 

The  Children  of  the  Sun  would  have  multiplied 
greatly  had  it  not  been  for  an  evil  thing  that  had 


4  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

befallen  them  many  thousand  moons  before  they  had 
arrived  at  their  home  by  the  Long  River. 

Once,  when  stung  to  furious  wrath  at  the  insolent 
disobedience  of  Hasihta,  the  Sun  Man,  Gitche  Manito, 
the  Great  Spirit,  had  created  the  terrible  Piasau,  Bird 
of  Evil.  It  was  decreed  that  this  horrible  monster 
should  feast  only  on  the  people  of  this  tribe;  and 
having  once  tasted  human  flesh  and  blood,  nothing 
else  appeased  its  voracious  appetite. 

The  Piasau  was  a  winged  monster  with  horns  like 
a  roebuck,  fiery  red  eyes,  and  a  beard  like  the  buffalo 
bull.  The  face  was  not  unlike  the  face  of  a  man,  with 
the  thick  lips  drawn  back  from  horrible,  sharp,  white 
teeth.  Its  body  was  covered  with  scales  as  large  as 
clam  shells.  Its  claws  were  like  the  claws  of  the 
eagle  many  times  multiplied,  and  its  tail  was  so  long 
that  it  passed  entirely  around  the  body,  over  the  head 
and  between  the  legs,  ending  like  the  tail  of  a  fish. 

Its  huge  wings  were  a  shell-like  green,  and  so 
large  that  their  folding  and  unfolding  produced  sounds 
like  the  rushing  of  many  winds. 

As  soon  as  Gitche  Manito  had  sent  the  Piasau  as  a 
curse  upon  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  he  regretted  that 
for  the  disobedience  of  one  man  the  innocent  for 
generations  to  follow  would  be  compelled  to  suffer, 
and  calling  a  council  of  the  Arctides,  the  Great  Spirit 
spoke,  saying: 

"I  have  sent  you  the  Piasau,  Bird  of  Evil,  because 


The  Arctides  5 

Hasihta  displeased  me.  But  you,  who  have  done  no 
wrong,  should  not  be  made  to  suffer  eternally  for  his 
wrong-doing.  Behold,  I  have  created  an  arrow,  the 
Arrow  of  the  Sun.  On  a  day  there  shall  come  to  the 
men  of  Arctides  a  descendant  of  Hasihta.  As  a  great 
prophet  he  shall  come,  and  when  he  is  amongst  you 
he  will  relate  why  I  have  given  you  the  arrow  and  will 
tell  you  how  to  use  it.  Guard  the  arrow  with  your 
lives,  hold  it  forever  sacred,  for  on  it  dependeth  the 
final  hope  of  the  Arctides.  Take  it,  O  men  of 
Arctides,  and  depart." 

The  Arrow  of  the  Sun  was  sealed  in  a  copper  case, 
exquisitely  decorated.  The  seal  was  that  of  the  sun, 
and  the  case  could  never  be  opened  save  by  a  word 
which  the  Great  Spirit  withheld  until  the  people  were 
worthy  to  receive  it. 

Beneath  a  golden  disk  of  the  sun  in  the  Council 
Chamber  of  the  tribe,  the  beautiful  arrow  awaited  the 
coming  of  the  child  of  the  line  of  Hasihta,  who  was  to 
break  the  seal,  fit  the  arrow  to  his  bowstring,  and  go 
forth  to  slay  the  Piasau. 

From  the  day  on  which  the  Piasau  was  first  sent 
forth  as  a  creature  of  destruction,  he  never  ceased  his 
persecution  of  the  people  of  Arctides,  and  the  tribe 
waited  none  too  patiently  for  the  fulfillment  of  the 
prophecy  made  so  long  ago. 

High  up  amongst  the  cliffs  where  no  man  might  go 
dwelt  the  Bird  of  Evil.  Whenever  it  sallied  forth, 


6  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

spreading  its  awful  wings  like  a  pall  over  the  village 
sky,  men,  women,  and  children  sickened  unto  death,  and 
the  Piasau  feasted. 

Neither  were  the  spirits  of  the  departed  warriors 
permitted  to  journey  safely  to  the  Happy  Hunting 
Grounds,  for,  hovering  on  the  border  of  the  beautiful 
lake  over  which  the  souls  were  bound  to  voyage,  the 
monster  lay  in  wait  to  capture  and  bear  them  away  to 
its  foul  nest  in  the  cliff,  devouring  them  at  its  leisure, 
to  keep  life  in  its  own  evil  veins. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  VILLAGE  OF  THE  ARCTIDES 

Twas  the  season  of  the  Strawberry  Moon  in  the 
country  of  the  Arctides. 

Hip-high  on  the  broad  prairie  stood  the  grasses, 
waving  like  an  emerald  sea.  The  rugged  banks  of  the 
Long  River  were  crowned  with  oak,  beech,  and  maple 
trees,  rich  with  summer  foliage.  Walnuts  and  hickories, 
their  slender  boughs  bending  beneath  the  weight  of 
half-grown  nuts,  stood  phalanx-like  in  the  dark,  cool 
forest. 

Above  the  ravines,  rank  with  fern  and  lichen,  the 
blackberry  bushes  drooped  with  their  burden  of  ripen- 
ing fruit,  whilst  out  on  the  undulating  plains  the  lus- 
cious strawberries  hid  themselves  from  prying  eyes  in 
the  fresh,  sweet  grasses. 

The  shores  of  the  Long  River  were  steep  and  rocky, 
but  sloped  easily  and  gently  toward  the  open  country 
of  the  north  and  the  west. 

The  village  of  the  Arctides  was  built  about  an  open 
space  on  the  hillside. 

On  an  eminence  overlooking  the  river,  to  the  east, 
stood  the  principal  tepee  of  the  Arctides,  the  beautiful 

7 


8  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Council  Chamber,  where  the  chieftains  sat  together  and 
planned  the  conduct  of  the  tribe. 

The  Council  Chamber  was  a  long,  broad  room,  with 
vaulted  ceiling,  and  almost  perpendicular  sides.  The 
arched  roof  was  formed  of  young  hickory  saplings,  bent 
to  the  desired  shape,  and  fastened  with  plaited  thongs 
of  deerskin.  For  this  structure  the  Arctides  used  more 
than  a  hundred  arches  and  made  it  the  combined 
length  of  ten  deerskins,  so  that  the  lodge  was  a  most 
imposing  edifice.  Completely  covering  these  arches 
were  buffalo-skins  laid  together  with  such  exactitude 
that  neither  the  cold  of  winter  nor  the  heat  of  summer 
might  penetrate  the  hall. 

The  roof  and  sides  of  the  Council  Chamber  were 
gorgeously  decorated  with  figures  and  writings  telling 
of  the  wonderful  adventures  that  had  befallen  the 
Children  of  the  Sun  for  untold  generations.  The  floor 
was  thickly  strewn  with  the  finest  skins  the  Arctides 
had  been  able  to  obtain,  making  a  carpet  as  soft  as  a 
summer  cloud. 

Depending  from  the  arches,  and  suspended  from 
hundreds  of  antlers  of  the  moose  and  the  deer  fas- 
tened to  the  wall,  were  skins  of  all  sorts.  Great  bunches 
of  feathers  and  strings  of  wampum  gave  an  air  of  bril- 
liancy and  richness  to  the  interior. 

The  lodge  was  open  at  both  ends  for  the  purpose  of 
lighting  it,  but  so  cleverly  were  the  skins  that  hung  at 
the  entrance  fitted,  that  it  was  possible  to  close  the 


The  Village  of  the  Arctides  9 

lodge  so  completely  that  not  a  single  ray  of  light 
entered. 

In  the  interior  of  the  Council  Chamber,  and  at  the 
extreme  eastern  end,  upon  an  altar  of  stone,  carved 
with  a  figure  of  Hasihta,  stood  the  shield  of  the  tribe, 
adorned  with  a  glowing  picture  of  the  sun.  Immedi- 
ately in  front  of  the  shield,  in  its  decorated  casing, 
rested  the  Arrow  of  the  Sun.  All  about  the  altar,  ar- 
ranged with  the  minutest  attention  to  detail,  were  the 
ceremonial  robes  and  head-dresses  of  the  tribe,  the 
pouches  and  powerful  charms  used  by  the  medicine- 
men, the  ceremonial  drums  and  the  musical  instru- 
ments. 

Immediately  above  the  altar,  in  a  skin  splendidly 
trimmed  with  the  highly  polished  teeth  of  wild  animals 
and  eagle-feathers,  reposed  the  Peace  Pipe;  and  in  a 
receptacle  especially  fashioned  for  them  by  the  medi- 
cine-men of  the  tribe  were  the  bone  Images  of  the 
Sun.  These  images  had  been,  according  to  tradition, 
carved  by  the  sun  itself  and  dropped  in  the  paths  of  the 
prophets.  They  were  the  most  cherished  belongings 
of  the  tribe,  used  in  all  their  religious  ceremonies. 

At  the  extreme  west  end  of  the  Council  Chamber 
was  the  picture  of  the  Piasau  bird,  depicted  in  all  its 
grinning  horror  upon  the  skin  of  a  buffalo.  Before  the 
picture  of  the  monster  gifts  were  placed  as  peace  offer- 
ings, for  the  Children  of  the  Sun  stood  in  great  fear  of 
the  bird,  and  hoped  by  this  means  to  propitiate  it 


io  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

and  avoid  the  disasters  that  were  constantly  befalling 
them. 

Below  the  Council  Chamber,  and  at  a  little  distance 
to  the  right,  was  the  lodge  of  Minno,  the  leading 
prophet  of  the  tribe,  a  substantial  tepee,  built  of  buffalo- 
hides  and  bark.  The  sustaining  pillars  were  of  young 
hickory  trees,  and  the  wide  and  inviting  entrance  was 
hung  with  ropes  of  deer  and  bear  skins.  The  sides  of 
the  tepee  were  painted  with  allegorical  pictures  repre- 
senting the  most  important  epochs  in  the  history  of  the 
totem'  of  the  Beaver,  of  which  Minno  was  the  oldest 
living  descendant. 

The  floor  of  Minno's  hut,  not  unlike  the  floor  of  the 
Council  Chamber,  was  also  strewn  with  the  skins  of  the 
otter,  the  fox,  and  the  bear.  About  the  sides  of  the 
lodge  were  hung  the  symbols  of  the  prophet, — medi- 
cine-bags, thunder-clubs,  bunches  of  sacred  feathers, 
innumerable  claws  of  birds,  and  teeth  of  the  gray  wolf 
and  the  bear.  Beneath  the  roof,  in  a  fanciful  border, 
were  hung  the  skins  of  snakes  and  the  heads  of  hun- 
dreds of  birds  that  had  died  in  the  forest. 

Beyond  the  Council  Chamber,  on  the  extreme  edge 
of  the  bluff,  was  the  Minno  watchtower.  Here  were 
kindled  the  signal-fires  for  communication  between 
the  tribes.  Eloquent  were  the  flames,  and  so  carefully 
was  the  burning  regulated  that  they  made  known  with 
nicety  any  message  to  those  at  a  great  distance. 

The  tepees  of  the  villagers  were  scattered  about  in 


The  Village  of  the  Arctides  n 

irregular  patches,  and  were  elegant  or  plain,  as  the 
owners  pleased.  The  entrances  to  the  tepees  were 
never  closed,  except  to  shut  out  the  storm  or  cold.  The 
greatest  freedom  existed  in  the  village,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  tribe  entered  or  left  their  neighbors'  dwell- 
ings as  freely  as  their  own. 

In  the  center  of  the  village  was  a  large  clearing,  in 
which  went  forward  all  the  games  and  jousts  of  the  tribe. 
Here  the  feasts  were  celebrated,  and  here  the  children 
ran  races,  played  at  ball,  wrestled,  or  shot  their  arrows 
at  targets.  Around  to  the  east,  in  a  sweeping  curve, 
wound  the  Long  River. 


CHAPTER  III 

MINNO,  THE  PROPHET 

Minno,  the  Prophet,  was  called  by  his  tribe  the 
Father  of  the  Arctides.  He  was  descended  from 
Hasihta,  the  Sun  Man,  through  a  long  line  of  prophets, 
and  was  loved  by  all  the  people,,  as  much  for  his  sim- 
plicity and  rugged  strength  of  character  as  for  his 
wisdom.  All  his  years  had  been  spent  in  promoting 
the  happiness  of  his  people.  Every  effort  of  his  noble 
mind  had  been  bent  on  teaching  them  the  beautiful 
way  of  life.  He  told  them  the  mysteries  of  the  trees 
and  flowers,  the  language  of  the  birds  that  built  their 
nests  in  the  forests  and  amongst  the  rocks,  the  action 
of  the  animals  of  prairie  and  wood,  the  ways  of  the  fish 
in  the  rivers,  and  the  words  of  the  running  waters.  He 
taught  them  to  perfect  themselves  in  everything  they 
undertook,  so  that  the  handiwork  of  the  Arctides  was 
noted  for  its  perfection  and  beauty. 

Minno,  though  the  oldest  of  the  Children  of  the 
Sun,  was  as  erect  as  the  white  oak  that  stood  be- 
side his  tepee.  His  flashing,  deep-set  eyes,  and  the 
vibrant  tones  of  his  voice,  with  the  wisdom  of  his 
words,  gained  him  always  the  undivided  attention  of 


Minno,  the  Prophet  13 

the  Council.  True,  he  was  the  living  mouthpiece  of 
the  Manitos,  and  that  alone  would  have  entitled  him 
to  respect;  but  it  was  the  magnificent  courage  and  ab- 
solute fearlessness  of  the  man,  his  natural  dignity  and 
the  purity  of  his  soul,  which  caused  the  Arctides  to 
love  and  honor  him,  and  he  held  a  place  in  their  affec- 
tions little  short  of  idolatry. 

And  to  Minno  the  Good,  Minno  the  Prophet, 
Minno  the  Father  of  the  Arctides,  all  the  Children  of 
the  Sun  looked  for  relief  from  Piasau,  the  monster, 
who  was  furiously  destroying  the  remnants  of  this 
once  powerful  nation. 

When  Minno,  a  mere  youth,  was  keeping  his  first 
fast  and  lonely  vigil  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  he  had 
been  told  in  a  dream  that  the  time  was  approaching 
for  the  coming  of  him  who  should  destroy  the  Piasau. 

The  manner  of  it  was  this: 

For  ten  days  Minno  remained  in  the  forest,  faith- 
fully keeping  his  fast  and  listening  to  the  voices  of  the 
Manitos.  When  his  fast  was  over  he  returned  to  the 
village,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  eaten  of  the  meat  pre- 
pared for  him,  and  drunk  of  the  water  from  the  Sacred 
Spring,  he  went  into  the  Council  Chamber  to  tell  the 
adventures  that  had  befallen  him  in  the  forest. 

The  chiefs  being  assembled,  he  was  bidden  to 
speak;  and  thereupon  Minno,  lifting  up  his  young 
head,  repeated  quietly  and  modestly  the  words  the 
Great  Spirit  had  spoken  to  him: 


H  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"  When  my  fast  was  almost  over  I  heard  a  voice 
saying,  '  Minno,  Minno,  not  for  you  is  the  glory  of  war 
and  the  pleasure  of  the  chase.  Go  back  to  the  vil- 
lage, to  those  who  await  your  returning.  Wash  the 
black  paint  from  your  eyelids,  washing  it  too  from 
your  cheeks  and  the  temples  resting  above  them. 

4 '  Put  from  your  heart  and  your  mind  all  thought 
of  the  war  and  its  glory,  and  when  the  moon  is  once 
more  a  slender  bow  in  the  heavens,  go  to  the  foot  of 
the  cliff,  the  cliff  that  runs  up  from  the  valley;  there 
by  the  Sacred  Spring  deep  bury  your  bows  and  your 
arrows;  bury  your  tomahawk  too,  and  your  war  spear 
and  shield  you  must  bury. 

"  '  I,  the  Great  Spirit,  have  chosen  that  you  shall 
be  noted  for  wisdom.  Quick  shall  your  ears  be  to  hear 
the  voice  that  dwells  in  the  forest,  so  may  you  prove 
yourself  strong  and  wise  in  the  tribe  of  Arctides.  And 
finally  one  of  your  blood  shall  be  born  to  the  care- 
ridden  people  who  shall  take  up  the  beautiful  arrow 
and  slay  the  monster  Piasau. 

1 '  When  the  day  shall  have  dawned  heralding  the 
birth  of  the  infant,  then  will  I  give  you  a  sign,  that  the 
child  may  be  known  to  the  people.  Teach  and  in- 
struct him,  O  Minno!  Guide  him  in  truth  and  in  wis- 
dom; teach  him  the  beautiful  way  of  the  life  that  has 
now  been  foretold  you. 

' '  Heed  ye  the  voice  of  the  Spirit,  Prophet  of  all 
the  Arctides.  Do  even  so  as  I  bid  you,  and  there  shall 


'^*S? 


^**tifei^Ji^      ! 

;*»*>  .'.^  /x.V. 

-'•^'.-..  >•  r   ^         t> 

'<W^ 


RECEIVING   THE   BLESSING   OF  THE  SUN. 


Minno,  the  Prophet  15 

be  hope  for  your  people.  Kindle  the  fires  on  the  altar 
and  wait  for  the  child  who  is  coming,  coming  to  take 
up  the  arrow,  coming  to  slay  the  Piasau.'  " 

The  people  of  the  Arctides  were  told  of  the  vision 
of  Minno,  and  they  made  a  great  feast  to  Gitche 
Manito,  and  danced  and  sang  for  many  days. 

From  that  day  Minno  walked  apart,  fasting  and 
keeping  watch,  speaking  the  words  of  the  Manitos. 

Once  more  the  village  resumed  its  wonted  quiet, 
but  the  people  went  about  with  cheerful  faces  and 
light  hearts,  feeling  certain  that  the  day  was  not 
far  removed  when  the  dream  of  Minno  would  be  ful- 
filled. 

Minno,  the  boy,  shot  into  manhood  so  quickly  that 
the  tribe  could  hardly  realize  that  the  tall  and  muscu- 
lar youth  who  walked  so  quietly  amongst  them  was 
but  a  few  short  years  before  the  child  who  had  come 
to  them  with  the  Prophecy  of  Good. 

Then  one  day  Minno  announced  in  the  Council 
that  he  was  about  to  marry  Ahmeequa,  daughter  of 
Ogema,  the  leading  chieftain.  Great  was  the  rejoic- 
ing, and  for  three  days  the  people  of  Arctides  feasted 
and  made  merry,  to  celebrate  the  nuptials  of  the  young 
prophet  and  the  beautiful  and  good  Ahmeequa. 

The  firstborn  of  Minno  and  Ahmeequa  was  a  son, 
whom  they  called  Nirigwis,  and  the  mother  and  father 
waited  anxiously  for  some  sign  from  the  Manitos  to  tell 
what  the  future  of  the  lad  would  be.  The  people  of  Arc- 


1 6  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

tides  believed  the  child  to  be  the  one  who  was  to  wield 
the  Arrow  of  the  Sun,  and  waited  impatiently  until  the 
day  when  he  should  keep  his  first  fast  and  vigil.  Daily 
did  Minno  tell  little  Nirigwis  what  future  would  be  ex- 
pected of  him  and  what  his  work  was  to  be.  But  the 
pretty  child  shook  his  head  gravely  and  said,  "  Dear 
father,  it  does  not  seem  so  to  me.  I  long  to  play  with  the 
robins  and  rest  by  the  cool  blue  waters.  I  will  go  to  the 
Manitos  soon,  dear  father,  and  tell  them  how  I  love  the 
voices  of  the  birds,  and  what  the  waters  and  the  streams 
say  to  me.  Dost  think  they  will  listen,  my  father?" 

Then  Minno  would  clasp  the  boy  to  his  heart  and 
beg  him  to  give  heed  to  the  prophecy,  and  the  boy 
would  promise,  and  try  to  remember,  and  was  so  loving 
and  merry  that  sometimes  Minno  almost  wished  that 
he  might  let  his  boy  race  and  play  and  join  in  the 
mimic  hunt  with  the  other  youths  of  the  village.  But 
Minno  could  not  lose  sight  of  the  prophecy,  and  he 
prayed  constantly  for  its  fulfillment. 

When  the  day  dawned  that  Nirigwis  was  to  go  to 
the  forest  for  his  first  fast  and  vigil,  even  as  Minno  had 
done,  Ahmeequa  brought  him  the  mat  she  had  woven 
for  him  to  recline  upon,  and  Minno,  taking  the  boy's 
hand,  led  him  into  the  deep  forest,  where  years  before 
the  father  had  kept  his  watch,  and  left  him  there,  with 
a  last  loving  embrace.  Ten  days  Nirigwis  stayed 
alone,  eating  nothing,  and  listening  for  the  voice  of 
the  good  spirits  who  would  reveal  his  future  to  him. 


Minno,  the  Prophet 


But  when  the  tenth  day  ended,  Nirigwis  was  with  the 
Manitos  and  neither  his  father  nor  his  mother  nor  any 
of  his  tribe  ever  beheld  him  again. 

Bitterly  did  the  tribe  and  the  parents  mourn  for 
little  Nirigwis,  but  even  while  they  were  overcome 
with  sorrow  another  son  was  born  to  Minno  and  to 
Ahmeequa,  and  again  the  people  were  glad.  The 
mourning  was  changed  to  rejoicing,  and  the  feast-fires 
burned  with  a  ruddy  glow. 

Minno  was  very  proud  and  happy  at  the  child's 
coming,  and  because  he  shouted  so  lustily,  and  fought 
so  bravely  with  his  tiny  fists,  the  father  gave  him  the 
name  of  Soangataha,  the  Strongheart,  and  again  the 
tribe  feasted  and  beat  the  war  drums,  and  said,  There 
he  is!  He  is  Soangataha,  the  Strongheart.  Now  let 
Piasau  beware,  for  the  days  of  his  terror  are  num- 
bered. 

While  Soangataha  was  yet  a  baby,  Ahmeequa  died, 
and  the  boy  grew  to  manhood  without  the  loving  care 
of  a  mother.  But  he  was  a  sturdy  youth,  and  early  be- 
came a  leader.  In  the  mimic  chase  he  performed  with 
such  dash  and  fearlessness  that  sometimes  Minno 
feared  he  would  be  killed. 

He  cared  so  much  for  sport  and  so  little  for  learn- 
ing that  Minno  spent  days  and  weeks  in  the  forest, 
praying  that  his  son  might  become  less  interested  in 
the  hunt  and  in  the  tales  of  the  warriors'  great  prow- 
ess, and  turn  his  mind  to  the  work  that  was  appor- 


i8  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

tioned  to  him,  that  of  slaying  the  Piasau.  Minno  told 
the  boy  what  the  people  of  Arctides  expected  of  him; 
but  Little  Strongheart  only  laughed,  and  said  he  was 
the  one  appointed  to  slay  Piasau. 

"Of  course  I  will  slay  the  bird.  Give  me  but  the 
arrow  and  I  will  kill  him  as  soon  as  I  grow  to  be  a 
man.  That  is  why  I  want  to  hunt  the  buffalo,  so  that 
I  may  know  how  to  shoot.  See,  father,  the  boys  are 
playing  at  hunting.  Let  me  go,  dearest  father,  and 
play  with  them."  Then  Soangataha  would  fling  his 
strong  arms  around  Minno's  neck,  and  lay  his  cheek 
against  his  father's,  and  look  at  him  with  the  glorious 
eyes  of  Ahmeequa,  the  mother,  whose  image  forever 
burned  in  Minno's  heart.  And  Minno  could  no  longer 
refuse  the  lad's  importunities,  and  would  bid  him  go 
and  join  the  sport. 

For  all  Minno's  care,  and  he  spared  neither  the 
boy  nor  himself  in  the  lessons  he  tried  to  grave  on 
Soangataha' s  heart,  Strongheart  cared  nothing  for  the 
teachings  of  Wisdom.  He  gloried  in  the  chase  and 
the  fierce  encounters  of  fighting,  and  waited  with 
frantic  impatience  the  hour  when  he  might  be  permit- 
ted to  lead  the  warriors  in  battle. 

So  numerous  and  heroic  were  Strongheart's  ex- 
ploits that  when  hardly  more  than  a  youth  he  was 
made  the  chieftain  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  and 
had  the  place  of  honor  next  to  Minno  in  the  Council 
Chamber. 


Minno,  the  Prophet  19 

When  Strongheart  had  been  chieftain  almost  a 
year,  Pakoble,  daughter  of  Pakablingge,  one  of  the 
warriors  of  the  Arctides,  became  the  bride  of  Strong- 
heart.  Not  many  moons  after  the  wedding  a  war  was 
declared  between  the  Ojibwas  and  the  Arctides,  and 
Strongheart  hastened  away  to  battle  at  the  head  of  his 
braves. 

However  much  the  people  of  the  Arctides  were 
disappointed  in  the  character  of  Strongheart,  which 
should,  according  to  the  dream  of  Minno,  have  been 
studious  and  prayerful,  instead  of  that  of  a  brave  and 
a  warrior,  the  Children  of  the  Sun  never  for  an  instant 
wavered  in  their  faith  in  their  prophet,  and  believed 
implicitly  that  his  dream  would  in  the  end  be  fulfilled. 


CHAPTER  IV 

PAKOBLE,  THE  ROSE 

Most  beautiful  amongst  all  the  lovely  women  of  the 
Arctides  was  Pakoble,  the  Rose,  wife  of  Strongheart 
and  daughter  of  Pakablingge. 

A  touch  of  summer  was  on  her  dark  oval  face. 
The  shadows  of  the  autumn  pools  lurked  in  her  deep 
eyes.  The  heavily  fringed  eyelids  drooping  languidly, 
the  straight  brows,  the  silky  black  hair  sweeping 
almost  to  her  ankles,  and  the  slender  hands  and  feet, 
made  her  so  perfect  in  beauty  that  the  artists  of 
the  Arctides  often  begged  the  favor  of  her  time, 
that  they  might  preserve  her  loveliness  to  future  gen- 
erations. 

Her  tall,  slender  figure  was  like  the  tiger  lily  grow- 
ing beside  the  pond,  and  the  meanest  robe  in  her  tepee 
took  on  a  wondrous  beauty  when  she  wrapped  it  about 
her  perfect  shoulders. 

But  more  beautiful,  more  lovely  than  either  face  or 
figure,  were  the  perfect  girl-soul  and  beautiful  mind  that 
were  the  heritage  of  Pakoble.  All  her  words  were  as 
honey,  and  full  of  gentle  wisdom.  Every  maiden  and 
every  matron  in  the  little  band  of  Arctides  loved  her, 


Pakoble,  the  Rose  21 

and  the  men  were  her  ready  slaves.  To  Strongheart 
she  was  the  flower  of  perfection.  In  her  were  com- 
bined all  the  elements  of  wife,  mother,  and  sweetheart. 
Her  tender  voice,  the  sweetness  of  her  caresses,  and 
the  purity  of  her  heart  filled  the  soul  of  her  husband 
with  a  delight  so  keen,  with  a  reverence  so  exalted, 
that  his  love  became  a  great  worship,  and  every  look 
of  her  eyes  rested  like  balm  on  his  wild,  tumultuous 
heart. 

The  air  of  early  summer  was  heavy  with  the  fra- 
grance of  ripening  mandrakes.  In  the  thick-leaved 
trees  the  bluejays  scolded  each  other  and  the  creek 
that  ran  by  the  village  sang  a  wooing  song. 

Pakoble,  lonely  and  longing  for  the  return  of 
Strongheart,  gathered  up  her  weaving,  and  calling  to 
Shangadaya,  the  Ojibwa  captive,  who  for  more 
years  than  she  dared  count  had  dwelt  amongst  the 
Arctides,  went  out  to  sit  on  the  natural  terrace  over- 
looking the  prairie,  hoping  to  see  the  return  of  the 
warriors. 

Shangadaya,  the  Old  One,  was  wrinkled  and  spare, 
with  a  low,  narrow  forehead,  deeply  sunken  eyes,  and 
stooping  shoulders.  Her  hair  was  very  thin  and  yel- 
low with  age,  but  her  eyes  held  all  the  fire  of  youth, 
and  her  teeth  gleamed  white  and  cruel,  like  the  teeth 
of  some  wild  thing. 

On  a  carpet  of  pine-boughs,  strewn  under  a  spread- 
ing elm  growing  near  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  the  two 


22  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

women  seated  themselves,  weaving  the  mats  from  the 
rushes. 

In  the  meadows  about  the  village  were  planted 
fields  of  beans  and  of  squashes,  and  in  great  profusion 
everywhere  grew  the  tobacco-plant,  its  green  leaves 
shining  brilliantly  in  the  sun. 

Stretching  before  the  weavers  to  the  north  and 
west  were  the  prairie  lands  where  grew  patches  of 
corn,  the  spear-like  tufts  of  its  stalks  glinting  in  the 
sunshine  like  the  weapons  of  an  invading  army. 

But  the  martial  corn,  with  its  sword-like  leaves  and 
silken  tassels,  held  the  only  suggestion  of  strife  or 
combat  in  the  village  on  that  clear  summer  morning. 
The  warriors  were  all  away,  fighting  with  Wabojeeg 
of  the  Ojibwas,  sworn  enemy  of  the  Arctides. 
The  land  of  the  Ojibwas  lay  beside  the  Cold  Lake,  to 
the  far  north,  and  in  the  village  of  the  Arctides  only 
the  women  and  the  children  and  the  oldest  men  were 
left  at  home. 

Down  in  the  clearing  a  number  of  Indian  women 
were  cutting  weeds  from  around  the  stalks  of  corn. 
Beside  the  small  creek  that  noisily  pushed  its  way  over 
the  rock-ledge,  only  to  lose  itself  again  in  the  long 
wire-grass  that  lined  its  banks,  a  little  group  of 
Indian  boys  shot  blunt  arrows  across  the  water, 
running  waist-deep  into  the  shallow  pools  to  regain 
them. 

Close  beside  cliffs  were  gathered  the  growing  lads 


ON   A   CARPET   OF    PINE- BOUGHS,    THE   TWO   WOMEN   SEATED 
THEMSELVES,    WEAVING  THE  MATS   FROM  THE   RUSHES. 


Pakoble,  the  Rose  23 

of  the  village,  taking  part  in  a  mimic  chase,  wrestling 
and  playing  leap-frog,  or  tumbling  over  one  another 
on  the  soft,  luscious  grass  in  pure  exuberance  of  ani- 
mal spirits.  At  their  sides  gamboled  and  barked  the 
Annemoosh,  the  long,  lean,  hungry  sleepless  wolf- 
dog,  playfellow  of  the  Red  Children. 

Here  and  there,  before  one  or  another  of  the 
tepees,  an  aged  Indian  sat  squatting  on  the  ground, 
patiently  chipping  at  a  piece  of  flint,  shaping  it  slowly 
to  some  useful  weapon  of  war  or  of  the  chase. 

At  a  little  distance  from  Pakoble  sat  Tioma,  the 
Big  Voice,  story-teller  of  the  tribe  of  Arctides.  About 
his  broad  forehead,  on  each  of  his  heavy  cheeks,  and 
all  over  his  immense  torso,  were  painted  scenes  from 
the  tales  he  had  invented.  About  his  great  paunch 
was  drawn  a  robe  made  from  the  skins  of  many  ani- 
mals. This  garment  was  gorgeously  trimmed  with 
feathers,  and  worn  with  the  fur  side  out,  an  honor 
bestowed  upon  Tioma  by  the  Council  for  his  skill  in 
story-telling. 

"Are  the  playful  Manitos  whispering  a  new  tale  in 
the  ears  of  Tioma  that  he  is  so  long  silent  ?"  laugh- 
ingly called  Pakoble  across  the  space. 

"Tioma  has  already  more  tales  in  his  heart  than 
the  people  of  the  Arctides  care  to  hear,"  rumbled  he 
of  the  Big  Voice. 

"It  may  be  that  Tioma  is  mourning  because  his 
huge  bulk  keeps  him  from  the  war,"  croaked  the  Old 


24  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

One.  "Truly,  if  he  should  fall  upon  the  enemy  he 
would  crush  them." 

"Tioma  does  not  make  war  on  weaklings,"  replied 
the  story-teller,  puffing  out  his  fat  cheeks  in  derision. 
"When  he  draws  his  bow  it  will  not  be  against  the 
Ojibwas." 

"The  youths  of  the  Ojibwas  would  beat  the  paunch 
of  Tioma  like  a  war-drum,  if  he  would  but  dare  to  go 
amongst  them,"  quoth  Shangadaya. 

"The  children  of  the  Ojibwas  walk  sideways  and 
are  crooked,  like  Panaqui,  son  of  Shangadaya," 
roared  Tioma,  struggling  to  his  feet,  and  approaching 
the  Old  One  with  a  frowning  front. 

At  this  moment  a  little  crowd  of  half-grown  Indian 
lads  came  running  out  of  the  friendly  shadows  of  the 
wood,  shouting  playfully. 

"Hawawa,  wawa!  The  Pezheke  !  the  Buffalo!  the 
Buffalo!"  they  yelled,  seeing  Tioma;  and  brandishing 
with  pretended  fierceness  their  blunt  spears  of  iron- 
wood,  they  charged  upon  the  bulky  story-teller  in 
fierce  imitation  of  the  hunt. 

Tioma,  hearing  the  cries,  forgot  his  momentary 
anger  and  spun  around  quickly  to  face  his  chosen 
friends  the  children.  In  turning  he  caught  his  foot  in 
a  tangle  of  grass,  lost  his  balance,  and  toppled  to  the 
ground.  Unable  to  save  himself,  he  rolled  over  and 
over  down  the  grassy  incline,  bellowing  so  loudly 
as  to  put  to  shame  even  Jaba  Pezheke,  the  buffalo 


Pakoble,  the  Rose  25 

bull,  that  for  the  moment  he  was  supposed  to 
represent. 

Flying  after  him  came  the  lads,  laughing  and 
shrieking  with  joy  to  see  the  fat  Big  Voice,  like  a 
giant  stone,  rattling  and  bumping  adown  the  hillside. 

When  at  last  Tioma  reached  the  bottom  and 
regained  his  feet,  he  shook  himself  free  of  the  grasses 
and  brambles  that  clung  to  his  robe,  while  the  boys 
danced  and  laughed  merrily  about  him.  When  he  had 
recovered  his  breath,  Tioma,  not  wishing  to  lose  pres- 
tige, bellowed  lustily: 

"Who  so  great  as  Tioma !  Who  so  quick  to 
evade  the  young  hunters  of  the  Arctides!  The  brav- 
est warrior  would  fear  to  rush  headlong  over  the  preci- 
pice; but  not  so  Tioma.  Fear  flees  like  the  wind 
before  the  face  of  Tioma." 

"Hawawa,  wawa!"  howled  the  lads,  running  about 
the  puffing  story-teller;  but  Mantowesee,  the  Thought- 
ful, leader  of  the  little  band  of  Indian  boys,  said  at 
last,  "Come,  Tioma,  sit  under  the  guardian  pine  yonder 
and  we  will  bring  fresh  strawberries  from  the  meadows 
and  cold  water  from  the  brook  to  refresh  the  friend  of 
the  Young  Ones." 

While  this  scene  was  being  enacted  at  the  foot  of 
the  slope,  Panaqui  appeared  on  the  brow  of  the  hill 
behind  the  women. 

"Big  Voice  should  have  been  called  the  Bluejay; 
he  is  a  chattering  fool,"  sneered  the  Crooked  One. 


26  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Pakoble  started  to  hear  the  rasping  voice  of  Pana- 
qui,  for  the  dwarf  seldom  spoke,  and  when  he  did  it 
was  in  a  tone  so  low  that  only  Shangadaya,  his  mother, 
could  understand.  But  now  his  voice  was  vibrant  and 
carried  even  to  where  Tioma  and  the  boys  were 
gathered. 

Shangadaya  nodded  her  head  in  silent  approval  of 
the  dwarf's  words,  while  she  kept  her  angry  eyes  on 
Tioma,  moving  away,  with  the  children  running  beside 
him. 

Panaqui,  the  Crooked  One,  son  of  Shangadaya, 
was  not  pleasant  to  look  upon.  His  legs  were  short 
and  twisted,  and  a  hunch  disfigured  his  back.  His 
large  bulging  head  was  set  deeply  between  high 
shoulders,  from  which  depended  long  sinewy  arms,  all 
hairy,  like  the  arms  of  the  bear. 

His  nose  was  like  the  beak  of  a  bird  of  prey;  his 
teeth  were  sharp  and  pointed,  like  those  of  a  wolf,  his 
eyes  like  those  of  the  badger,  quick  and  cruel;  and  his 
small  receding  chin  quivered  repulsively  when  he 
spoke. 

"Panaqui  should  remember  it  is  only  the  tongue  of 
the  adder  that  is  ever  ready  to  sting,"  cried  Pakoble, 
reprovingly. 

"Panaqui,  son  of  Shangadaya,  may  speak  when  it 
pleaseth  him,  since  he  talks  with  a  purpose,  muttered 
the  Old  One.  He  is  not  like  Tioma,  who  rattles  on 
with  great  stories  to  please  the  silly  youths  that  they 


Pakoble,  the  Rose  27 

may  bring  him  skins,  and  feed  him  all  day  with  the 
berries." 

"If  my  people  be  pleased  to  give  Tioma  meat  and 
skins  in  return  for  his  stories,  they  do  no  less  for  the 
son  of  Shangadaya,  who  is  not  even  one  of  their 
nation,"  said  Pakoble. 

"Panaqui  eats  the  bread  of  the  captive,"  snarled 
the  Crooked  One.  "When  he  is  free  it  will  be  time  to 
remember — " 

"Panaqui  chatters  like  the  squirrel,"  said  the  Old 
One,  turning  her  sharp  eyes  on  her  son.  "Let  him 
heed  the  words  of  the  Rose  and  remember." 

The  dwarf,  catching  the  warning  look  of  his  mother, 
turned  moodily  away,  and  the  women  again  resumed 
their  weaving. 

Presently  Pakoble,  dropping  in  her  lap  the  rushes 
that  she  had  been  listlessly  twining,  sat  with  her 
solemn  eyes  gazing  to  the  far  north. 

"The  wife  of  Strongheart  is  silent!"  said  Shanga- 
daya, the  Old  One,  looking  sharply  into  the  face  of 
Pakoble.  "Does  she  fear  for  the  safety  of  her  war- 
rior?" 

"Is  not  Pakoble  the  daughter  of  Pakablingge?" 
said  the  younger  woman,  proudly. 

"And  is  she  not  the  young  wife  of  Strongheart, 
who  has  been  gone  this  long  moon  to  meet  Wabojeeg, 
the  great  chief  of  the  Ojibwas,  in  the  Land  of  the  Cold 
Waters?"  cried  the  Old  One. 


28  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Shangadaya  spoke  angrily,  for  although  she  had 
spent  nearly  sixty  years  with  the  Arctides,  yet  she 
longed  for  the  success  of  the  Ojibwas,  and  it  vexed  her 
proud  spirit  greatly  that  Strongheart  had  sent  back 
tidings  of  splendid  victories. 

"But  seven  moons  ago  Pakoble  became  the  bride 
of  Strongheart,"  replied  the  young  wife,  thoughtfully. 
"  Strongheart  is  a  great  warrior.  Have  not  his 
courage  and  skill  in  battle  caused  the  Council  to  give 
him  to  wear  upon  his  head  the  horns  of  the  buffalo? 
There  are  not  many  on  whom  the  Council  confers  such 
honor.  The  husband  of  Pakoble  is  brave  and  noble, 
and  should  fight  the  enemies  of  his  people.  But 
Pakoble  listens  not  for  the  shouts  of  victory.  She 
longs  for  the  return  of  Strongheart,  that  she  may  hear 
his  voice,  and  be  warmed  by  the  light  of  his  glances." 

"Pakoble  is  a  child,"  chided  the  Old  One,  "and 
should  have  remained  in  the  wigwam  of  her  father." 

"The  sun  will  not  shine  while  the  husband  of  the 
Rose  faces  the  arrows  of  his  enemies,"  said  the  young 
woman,  sadly. 

"Nor  will  the  mat  be  woven  while  the  hands  lie 
idle  on  the  rushes,"  replied  Shangadaya,  the  Old  One. 
"Listen,"  she  said,  "and  I,  the  Old  One,  will  tell  you  a 
story  of  another  wife,  a  woman  of  my  own  tribe,  who 
loved  too,  but  who  was  patient  and  did  not  sorrow. 
It  is  the  story  of  Nadowawka  and  Naygow  her  hus- 
band. Great  in  wisdom  and  council  was  he,  and 


Pakoble,  the  Rose  29 

strong  as  the  bear  in  battle.  The  scalps  of  his  ene- 
mies hung  thick  at  his  belt.  His  couch  was  made  soft 
with  the  skins  of  many  animals  his  spears  had  slain. 
The  young  men  of  his  tribe  beheld  him  with  awe,  for 
he  was  truly  a  great  warrior.  But  he  fell  sick  and  be- 
came feeble  in  his  walk,  so  that  when  the  spring  came 
to  the  earth,  and  his  people  were  ready  to  pack  their 
wigwams  from  their  sugar-camp  in  the  deep  forest  to 
the  open  shore  of  the  blue  lake,  Naygow's  limbs  broke 
under  him  and  he  could  not  travel  with  the  others. 

"  Half  a  moon  away  over  the  wide  prairie  the  journey 
was  set  for.  Naygow  felt  that  it  was  his  last  winter  on 
earth,  and  he  longed  to  see  once  more  the  beautiful 
lake,  blue  in  the  sunshine  of  spring;  to  breathe  again 
the  soft  breezes  that  shook  themselves  out  of  the 
clouds  of  heaven. 

"  But  Naygow  knew  that  it  was  his  lot  to  be  left 
behind,  that  his  heart  would  melt  with  sorrow  in  his 
bosom,  and  thus  sorrowing,  he  would  die. 

"Then  Nadowawka,  his  wife,  lifted  the  feeble  Nay- 
gow upon  her  shoulders.  About  her  head  she  fastened 
the  head-strap  to  aid  in  carrying  her  burden,  and  so 
journeyed  over  the  prairie  country  toward  the  wide, 
blue  waters  of  the  lake.  When  her  limbs  would  bend 
beneath  her,  shaking  like  a  storm-swept  reed,  she 
would  wait,  resting. 

"  So  at  last  she  came  to  the  end  of  the  journey,  and 
the  heart  of  her  husband  was  gladdened,  for  now 


30  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

when  he  died  he  could  be  buried  by  the  side  of  the 
warriors  of  his  tribe  who  had  gone  before  him." 

"  Nadowawka  was  brave  and  patient,"  said  Pakoble, 
softly. 

"  Shangadaya  speaks  truth,"  said  the  Old  One. 

"  Is  it  true,  Shangadaya,  that  you  have  been  given 
the  secrets  of  the  mysteries?"  questioned  Pakoble. 

"  Shangadaya  has  sat  in  the  Jeesukaun,  the  lodge  of 
the  prophets,  and  to  her  ears  have  come,  as  a  song,  the 
voices  of  the  spirit  Manitos,"  cried  the  Old  One,  boast- 
fully. "  She  has  tried  the  strength  of  Wauwan,  the 
great  medicine-man  of  your  people,  and  triumphed  over 
him." 

"  If  it  is  true,  as  you  tell  me,  Shangadaya,"  cried 
Pakoble,  "if  you  can  look  with  spirit  eyes  into  the 
future,  tell  me  of  Strongheart,  away  and  at  war  with 
the  Ojibwas;  tell  me,  is  he  leading  his  warriors  in  bat- 
tle, or  has  he  turned  his  face  toward  the  village  of  the 
Arctides?  Oh,  tell  me,  Shangadaya,  whether  he  is 
thinking  of  his  own  lodge-fire,  if  he  thinks  of  me, 
Pakoble,  his  wife?" 

While  Pakoble  spoke  there  came  a  rush  of  wings 
overhead,  and  the  shadow  of  a  raven,  flying  across  the 
sky,  fell  upon  her  face. 

Shangadaya  looked  up  quickly  from  her  weaving 
and  saw  the  flight  of  the  raven  across  the  sun-filled 
heaven,  and  as  the  bird's  wings  dipped  for  the  upward 
flight,  she  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  chanting  weirdly: 


Pakoble,  the  Rose  31 

Under  the  hollow  sky, 

Stretched  o'er  the  prairie  lone; 
Center  of  glory,  I, 

Bleeding,  disdain  to  groan. 
But  like  a  battle-cry, 

Peals  forth  my  thunder  moan — 
Baim-wa-wa! 

Star,  morning  star  whose  ray 

Still  with  the  dawn  I  see, 
Quenchless  through  all  the  day, 

Gazing,  thou  seest  me. 
Yon  birds  of  carnage,  they 

Fright  not  my  gaze  from  thee — 
Baim-wa-wa! 

Bird  in  thine  airy  rings 

Over  the  foeman's  line, 
Why  do  thy  flapping  wings 

Nearer  me  thus  incline? 
Blood  of  the  dauntless  brings 

Courage,  O  bird,  to  thine — 
Baim-wa-wa! 

1  Hark  to  those  spirit  notes, 

Ye  high  heroes  divine; 
Hymned  from  your  God-like  throats, 

That  song  of  praise  is  mine. 
Mine,  whose  grave-pennon  floats 
Over  the  foeman's  line — 
Baim-wa-wa!" 


32  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"That  is  the  death-song  of  the  Ojibwas,"  cried 
Pakoble,  clasping  her  slender  hands  and  peering,  with 
great  startled  eyes,  into  the  face  of  the  Old  One. 
"  Why  comes  it  now  to  freeze  the  blood  of  Pakoble?" 

"  The  shadow  of  the  raven,  omen  of  the  battlefield, 
has  fallen  upon  the  wife  of  Strongheart.  Nevermore 
will  the  son  of  Minno  come  to  his  wigwam  with  the  sun 
shining  in  his  face." 

As  Shangadaya  spoke,  Pakoble,  the  Rose,  saw  far 
away  on  the  prairie  a  dark,  slender  line,  like  a  black 
ribbon,  slowly  pushing  itself  through  the  swaying 
prairie  grass. 

"  It  is  the  warriors  returning  from  battle,"  cried  the 
Old  One,  whose  sharp  eyes  had  seen  the  oncoming  of 
the  braves  long  before  Pakoble's  misty  gaze  beheld 
them.  "  They  do  not  shout  and  leap  and  dance,  and 
fling  their  weapons  above  their  heads  with  the  joy  of 
victory.  Shangadaya  spoke  truly,  and  Strongheart 
will  look  no  more  upon  the  Rose." 

Shangadaya  swayed  back  and  forth  in  her  excite- 
ment, and  began  to  croon  "  Baim-wa-wa,  Baim-wa-wa." 

"And  see!"  she  shrieked,  interrupting  her  song, 
"  upon  their  shoulders  they  bear  the  body  of  the  warrior 
chief;  the  body  of  the  Strongheart,  the  husband  of 
Pakoble.  He  has  been  called  to  the  land  of  the  Good 
Spirits.  The  son  of  Minno  will  look  no  more  upon  the 
face  of  the  Wild  Rose,  the  daughter  of  Pakablingge. 
No  more  will  he  bring  her  soft  skins  to  lie  upon,  and 


Pakoble,  the  Rose  33 

the  glittering  shells  of  the  rivers  to  deck  the  bosom  of 
her  dress." 

Not  until  Shangadaya  had  ceased  speaking  did 
Pakoble  fully  comprehend  the  import  of  her  words, 
and  not  even  then  did  she  believe  the  prophecy  of  the 
Old  One,  until  with  her  own  eyes  she  saw  the  approach- 
ing band  of  warriors  bearing  the  body  of  Strongheart. 
Realizing  that  her  husband  would  never  more  hold  her 
in  his  arms  and  whisper  words  of  love,  she  uttered  a 
cry  so  piercing,  so  intense,  that  even  Shangadaya 
shrank  to  hear  it.  Pakoble  flung  herself  forward  on 
the  ground,  crying  aloud  the  name  of  Strongheart, 
begging  for  one  word  from  his  lips ;  one  sign  to  tell 
her  that  the  terrible  words  of  the  captive  were  false. 

But  no  voice  answered  Pakoble's  heartbroken 
pleading,  and  onward,  with  their  quiet  burden,  came 
the  warriors  of  Arctides. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  CHIEFTAIN'S  FUNERAL 

The  returning  warriors  left  the  plain  and  ascended 
the  slope,  the  body  of  their  dead  chieftain  carried 
upon  their  shoulders. 

Hearing  the  cries  of  Pakoble,  the  women  and  chil- 
dren of  the  village  gathered  together,  waiting  the  com- 
ing of  the  warriors,  while  the  old  men  and  the  youths 
hurried  forward  to  meet  the  returning  braves. 

Preceding  the  solemn  procession  ran  Wanahta,  the 
hunter.  Leaping  to  the  projecting  ledge  of  rock 
that  marked  the  entrance  to  the  village,  he  told  rapid- 
ly in  the  expressive  sign  language  of  the  Arctides  the 
tale  of  the  killing  of  Strongheart,  and  the  return  of 
the  warriors  who  were  bringing  home  the  body  for 
burial. 

But  it  was  not  only  because  of  his  skill  in  battle 
that  Strongheart  was  beloved  of  his  people,  but  be- 
cause of  his  manly  beauty  and  his  freehearted  ways. 

On  him,  too,  they  had  rested  their  hopes  for  the 
destruction  of  Piasau,  and  these  were  again  overthrown 
by  his  death.  Everywhere  was  wailing  and  lamen- 
tation. 

34 


The  Chieftain's  Funeral  35 

Minno  alone  stood  quietly  in  the  door  of  his  tepee, 
giving  no  sign  of  the  suffering  that  tore  his  heart 
beneath  his  ribs,  as  the  men  of  Arctides  brought  to  his 
tepee  the  body  of  his  warrior  son. 

Bravely  erect  stood  Minno,  his  muscular  arms 
folded  above  his  breast,  his  burning  eyes  fixed  on  the 
figure  of  Strongheart  lying  stiff  and  still  beneath  the 
chieftain's  robe  that  such  a  little  while  before  had  for 
the  first  time  hung  upon  his  shoulders  when  he  took 
his  seat  in  the  Council  Chamber. 

Pakoble  came  to  throw  herself  upon  the  ground 
before  Minno,  her  long  black  hair  hiding  the  sorrow 
that  lay  like  a  veil  on  her  beautiful  face. 

The  warriors,  arriving  at  the  door  of  Minno's 
lodge,  laid  the  body  of  Strongheart  upon  the  hastily 
constructed  bier  of  skins,  and  stood  mournful  and 
silent  before  the  old  father  and  the  young  wife. 

Soon  the  women,  gathering  around  Pakoble,  began 
chanting  the  dirge  of  the  tribe.  Then  the  Wild  Rose, 
raising  her  face  from  the  earth,  looked  upon  her  hus- 
band lying  cold  in  death. 

With  a  cry  so  bitter,  so  mournful,  so  full  of  pain 
that  even  the  warriors  shuddered,  Pakoble  flung  her- 
self upon  the  body  of  her  dead  love  and  wailed  out  her 
lament. 

"It  was  for  him  only  that  I  lived,"  she  cried. 
"Him  only  I  loved.  With  my  heart  and  my  soul  and 
my  eyes  I  loved  him. 


36  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"It  was  for  him  that  I  prepared  with  joy  the  fresh- 
killed  meat  and  swept  with  boughs  his  lodge-fire. 

"It  was  for  him  I  dressed  the  skin  of  the  elk,  and 
worked  with  my  hands  the  moccasins  that  covered  his 
feet,  even  to  his  ankles. 

"I  waited  each  day,  while  the  sun  journeyed  from 
the  winds  of  the  east  to  the  winds  of  the  west,  for  his 
return  from  the  chase,  and  I  rejoiced  in  my  heart 
when  I  heard  the  bough  crackling  beneath  his  tread; 
he  cast  his  burden  at  my  feet,  whilst  his  eyes  spoke  his 
love. 

"It  was  the  haunch  of  the  deer  that  he  cast  at  my 
feet,  and  I  sprang  to  prepare  the  meat,  that  he  might 
eat. 

"My  heart  lay  upon  his  and  he  was  as  the  waters 
of  the  world  about  me,  sweet  and  strong. 

"Now  that  he  has  gone  away  from  earth,  I  would 
go  too,  for  life  is  as  naught  without  his  love  to  comfort 
me,  his  strength  to  shield  me." 

As  Pakoble's  voice  died  away  in  wailing,  the  war- 
riors again  took  up  the  body  of  Strongheart,  and 
brought  it  to  the  door  of  his  own  wigwam,  putting  it 
upon  the  bed  of  pine  needles  where  he  had  slept  in 
life. 

As  they  placed  it  in  position,  a  file  of  women,  who 
were  the  appointed  mourners  of  the  tribe,  came  to 
chant  the  death-song  of  the  Arctides  beside  the  bier  of 
their  chief. 


The  Chieftain's  Funeral  37 

The  Tawaseutha,  Hill  of.  the  Dead,  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliff  near  the  Sacred  Spring,  had  been  opened,  and 
in  his  coffin  of  bark  and  skins,  Strongheart  was  laid 
to  sleep,  the  sleep  that  comes  of  a  good  life  amongst 
men. 

Beside  him  lay  his  spear,  which  he  had  hurled  so 
often  at  the  enemy  and  the  buffalo;  here  also  was  his 
tomahawk,  wherewith  he  had  finally  dispatched  his 
foe,  his  bow  of  cedar  and  arrows  of  ironwood,  feathered 
with  the  golden  eagle's  plumage,  and  pointed  with  flint, 
his  hunting-knife,  that  had  cut  away  the  beautiful 
skins  of  the  buffalo  when  his  arrows  brought  them  low, 
and  the  paddle  of  his  canoe  to  row  him  across  the 
mystic  waters. 

Beneath  his  fingers  lay  his  pouch  of  paints,  all 
ready  for  use  on  his  journey  to  the  other  world; 
at  his  feet  the  cup  from  which  in  life  he  had  drunk 
from  cooling  streams,  with  a  cake  made  of  the  new  corn, 
and  between  his  knees  his  flint  and  the  torches  of  pine 
that  he  might  have  light  through  the  dark  stages  of 
this  last  journey.  All  these  things  were  buried  with 
the  chief  to  cheer  his  spirit  as  it  made  its  way  to  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds. 

Wanahta,  who  had  been  Strongheart's  closest 
friend,  spoke  the  funeral  oration. 

"Strongheart,  chief  of  Arctides  and  son  of  Minno, 
has  fallen,"  said  Wanahta,  "  fallen  because  of  the 
treachery  of  his  enemies;  but  not  before  he  had  won 


38  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

the  fight  for  which  he  had  left  his  wigwam  and  his  wife. 
He  was  a  good  son,  a  brave  warrior,  a  faithful  hus- 
band. That  naught  may  vex  his  spirit  on  its  journey  to 
the  hereafter,  the  feast  offering  will  be  made  to  the 
merciful  Father,  Gheeze  Manito,  who  will  guide  his 
steps  as  he  goes. 

"Drums  will  be  beaten  and  the  sacrifice  made 
according  to  the  customs  of  our  fathers. 

"The  flesh  of  the  white  dog  will  be  burned  on  the 
altar,  and  the  smoke  of  tobacco  will  ascend,  that  the 
Great  Spirit  may  be  made  ;o  smile  and  welcome  the 
soul  of  Strongheart,  our  chieftain. 

"And  ye,  spirit  of  the  noble  Strongheart,  to  the 
strangers  that  ye  meet  on  the  way,  make  it  known 
that  Strongheart  was  Chief  of  Arctides,  the  Children 
of  the  Sun;  that  he  sat  in  the  Council  of  the  tribe,  and 
that  he  was  of  the  family  of  Minno,  of  the  totem  of 
the  Beaver. 

"Say,  also,  that  he  was  the  son  of  Minno,  the 
prophet,  and  the  husband  of  Pakoble,  daughter  of 
Pakablingge. 

"  His  people  know  that  Strongheart  will  not  go 
alone  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds.  He  will  be 
met  by  his  tribesmen,  and  the  friends  of  his  tribesmen, 
who  have  long  since  trodden  the  path  that  he  must  tread. 

"Great  will  be  the  rejoicing  in  the  Happy  Hunting 
Grounds  at  the  coming  of  Strongheart,  and  the  mighty 
chiefs  will  furnish  him  forth  with  everything  needful 


The  Chieftain's  Funeral  39 

in  his  new  abiding-place,  in  the  land  of  light  and  flow- 
ers and  warmth. 

"Be  not  troubled,  O  spirit,  O  Chief  of  the  mourn- 
ing Arctides,  because  of  Pakoble,  the  young  wife  that 
you  have  left  behind  you.  She  shall  henceforward  be 
the  care  of  your  people. 

"The  men  and  the  women  of  the  tribe  will  soothe 
and  comfort  her  in  her  sorrow,  and  will  guard  her 
tenderly,  for  your  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  the  son  that 
may  come  to  heal  her  sore  heart,  fulfilling  the  dream 
of  our  prophet,  and  slaying  the  dreadful  Piasau. 

"  The  warriors  shall  bring  their  best  trophies  to  her 
wigwam;  her  brethren  will  daily  chant  the  song  of 
your  tribe,  telling  in  legend  and  in  song  the  glorious 
deeds  of  Strongheart. 

"Till  the  Spirit  Moon  rides  in  the  sky  will  we 
bring  to  the  burning  fire  the  meat  of  the  buffalo,  the 
meat  from  our  cooking,  to  burn  whilst  we  are  eating. 

"  So  shall  the  spirits  of  the  Happy  Hunting 
Grounds  know  of  thy  worth  and  give  you  glad  wel- 
come amongst  them,  O  son  of  Minno,  the  prophet." 

"Farewell,  farewell,"  cried  Pakablingge,  flinging 
wide  his  arms  across  the  body  of  Strongheart.  "Thrice 
farewell,  O  Chieftain  of  the  Arctides.  But  a  little 
while  and  we  shall  come  and  look  upon  thy  face  again, 
and  sun  ourselves  in  the  warmth  of  thy  smile.  The 
going  is  forever,  the  staying  but  a  little  while.  Glad 
are  we  that  we  are  of  thy  tribe.  Farewell!  " 


40  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

When  this  part  of  the  ceremony  was  concluded  the 
women  resumed  their  wailing,  while  the  braves  re- 
moved the  thongs  that  had  bound  the  lid  of  the  coffin, 
leaving  the  cover  loose,  so  that  the  spirit  of  the  chief 
might  come  forth  at  will. 

Then  the  assembled  warriors  brought  forth  the  food 
they  had  prepared  for  the  dead  and  put  it  softly  near 
the  head  of  the  grave,  so  that  the  departing  spirit 
might  eat  and  be  strengthened  for  the  journey. 

When  the  last  offices  had  been  performed  the 
Indians  turned  again  and  walked  slowly  and  sadly  to 
the  village. 

The  near  relatives  of  Strongheart,  when  they  had 
again  reached  their  tepees,  covered  their  faces  with 
black  earth,  clothed  themselves  in  the  coarse  mourn- 
ing-robes of  the  tribe,  and  retired  from  the  sight  of 
their  fellow-men  to  fast  and  mourn  until  the  coming  of 
the  Spirit  Moon. 

All  the  other  villagers  began  the  funeral  feast  that 
should  last  until  the  sun  had  walked  four  times  across 
the  heavens,  while  the  doleful  drum  sounded  inces- 
santly, and  the  mourners  chanted  the  death-song, 
slowly  treading  the  dance  of  sorrow. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BUFFALO-DANCE 

Summer  was  gone  and  the  moon  of  the  Falling 
Leaf  had  come.  Frost  was  painting  the  forest  crimson, 
purple,  and  gold.  Darkly  brown  the  rustling  grasses 
lay  over  the  wide  tumbling  prairie.  The  corn  had 
been  garnered  and  stored  for  the  time  when  the  north- 
wind  should  strip  the  forest  of  its  foliage,  seal  up  the 
rivers,  and  hide  the  warm  earth  under  a  blanket  of 
snow. 

Preparations  were  being  made  in  the  village  for 
the  annual  buffalo-hunt,  one  of  the  important  events 
of  the  year.  The  meat  of  this  noble  animal  supplied 
the  people  with  food  during  the  long  winter  months 
when  there  was  but  little  hunting  and  game  was  scarce, 
and  its  hairy  skin  gave  them  clothing  and  covering  for 
the  tepees.  To  win  the  favor  of  the  Spirit  of  the 
Chase,  a  feast  of  burnt  meats  and  the  incense  of 
tobacco  celebrated  the  departure  of  the  hunters. 

When  the  fire  had  been  lighted  on  the  Common 
Ground  and  the  meats  were  ready,  Wahwun,  the 
medicine-man,  as  was  the  tribal  custom,  addressed 
the  hunters. 


42  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"Listen,  O  sons  of  Arctides!"  said  Wahwun. 
"  Harken  to  me,  Children  of  the  Sun.  Wahwun  has 
hidden  himself  for  hours  in  the  lodge  of  the  Metas, 
that  he  might  hear  the  good  voices. 

"Would  you  meet  with  success  in  the  chase?  List 
then  what  the  Manitos  tell  you.  Four  sleeps  to  the 
west  you  must  go,  and  when  you  have  come  to  a  river, 
let  one  who  is  chosen  to  lead  you  be  dressed  in  the 
hide  of  Pezheke.  With  the  buffalo-skin  entire  let  the 
chosen  one  cover  his  figure.  Laying  then  your  ears 
to  the  ground  you  shall  hear  the  rumble  of  hoof-beats. 
A  herd  like  the  leaves  of  the  wood  will  come  to  the 
hands  of  the  hunters. 

"  Go  then,  with  your  spears  and  arrows,  in  search 
of  food  for  your  people. 

"  It  is  not  an  adventure  for  women,  for  children,  for 
old  men,  or  weak-  ones.  In  the  van  of  great  herds, 
ever  ready  for  battle,  walks  the  guardian  buffalo  bull. 
Sharp  are  his  black,  shining  horns,  and  heavy  his  deep- 
set  shoulders.  Thick  and  long  is  his  mane,  covering 
his  neck  in  profusion.  Fierce  is  the  light  of  his  eye 
and  his  voice  is  the  voice  of  the  thunder.  Where  he 
runs  the  earth  trembles  and  dust  rolls  up  like  the 
storm. 

"  Then  must  the  chosen  one  wait,  all  patiently  bid- 
ing the  moment,  wait  in  the  tall,  rank  grass,  close  to 
the  cliff  by  the  river. 

"All  of  the  hunters  remaining,  losing  no  time  in 


THE   HUNTER   SPRINGING   ASIDE   TO   THE   ROCK. 


The  Buffalo-Dance  43 

their  going,  let  them  make  haste  to  the  rear  of  the 
herd  that  is  coming  toward  you. 

"  Everything  having  been  done,  as  the  voice  of  the 
Manitos  orders,  let  him  who  is  clad  in  the  skin  lift  up 
his  head  from  the  grasses.  Seeing  him  thus  shall  the 
bull  believe  him  Pezheke,  his  brother.  So  may  the 
chosen  one  lead  the  herd  with  a  rush  toward  the  river. 

"Then  will  the  buffalo  bull,  calling  his  herd  that 
comes  after,  follow  the  hunter  disguised,  swift  toward 
the  cliff  by  the  river.  Up  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  return- 
ing the  hunter  shall  lead  them. 

"Then  the  hunter  springing  aside  to  the  rock  that 
stands  like  a  shelter,  to  the  stone  as  large  as  a  tepee 
that  stands  on  the  cliff  by  the  river,  the  bull  with  his 
herd  shall  plunge  down,  and  we  shall  have  meat  in 
abundance." 

When  Wahwun  had  concluded  his  address  a  mo- 
mentary hush  fell  on  the  people.  His  strange  power 
of  foretelling  events  gave  to  his  words  a  meaning  sec- 
ond only  to  those  of  Minno,  and  the  hunters  felt  cer- 
tain all  would  come  about  just  as  he  predicted. 

The  novelty  of  the  plan  also  had  its  attractions, 
and  ambitious  young  hunters  were  already  itching  to 
be  chosen  to  play  the  part  of  the  decoy  buffalo. 

"How  will  you  choose  your  leader?"  questioned 
Pakablingge,  who  as  the  oldest  warrior  was  generally 
judge  of  the  games. 

"  Let  it  be  Wanahta!"  cried  half  a  dozen  voices. 


44  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"Why  not  Panaqui?"  roared  Tioma,  the  story- 
teller, who  had  not  forgiven  the  Crooked  One's 
sneering  reference  to  the  bluejay. 

Meeme,  the  Pigeon,  casting  her  roguish  eyes  at 
Wanahta,  said  laughingly,  "Why  not  Tioma  himself? 
No  one  could  so  easily  deceive  the  buffalo.  Give  him 
but  the  horns  and  mane,  and  where  will  you  find  so 
excellent  a  Jaba?" 

"Tioma!  Tioma! "  shrieked  the  children,  dancing 
around  the  story-teller.  "  He  fears  not  the  precipice! 
He  plunges  headlong  over!  We  have  seen  him,  we 
have  seen  him!  Let  it  be  Tioma!  Tioma!" 

The  anxiety  and  good-humored  raillery  were  brought 
to  a  sudden  close  by  the  announcement  that  the  mat- 
ter would  be  settled  by  the  game  of  the  javelin.  The 
decision  was  welcomed  with  shouts  of  joy  by  the  hunters, 
who  took  the  keenest  delight  in  this  fascinating  sport, 
and  the  expert  throwers  hurried  away  to  select  their 
choicest  weapons  for  the  tournament. 

The  Common  Ground  was  cleared  and  the  villagers, 
old  and  young,  forming  a  circle  around  its  extreme 
'outer  edge,  prepared  to  shout  approval  or  disapproval 
as  the  game  progressed. 

Meanwhile  Shangadaya  was  instructed  to  prepare 
the  disguise  that  Wahwun  had  described,  so  that  the 
victor,  whoever  he  might  be,  could  wear  it  in  the 
dance  which  would  follow  immediately  on  the  con- 
clusion of  the  game. 


The  Buffalo-Dance  45 

The  javelins  were  slender  instruments  of  ironwood, 
five  or  six  feet  long,  and  about  three-quarters  of  an 
inch  in  diameter,  sharpened  at  one  end. 

The  mark  at  which  the  javelins  were  cast  was  a 
ring  about  eight  inches  through,  made  of  split  hickory 
withes  bound  with  rawhide.  This  ring  was  thrown 
with  great  force  from  one  end  of  the  ground,  so  that 
it  rolled  swiftly  across  the  arena.  He  whose  turn  it 
was  to  try  his  fortune  would  then  hurl  his  javelin  at 
the  hoop  whilst  it  was  in  motion.  The  player  who  suc- 
ceeded in  ringing  the  most  javelins  was  declared  the 
victor.  The  game  was  a  great  favorite  among  the 
Arctides,  and  every  youth  was  more  or  less  proficient 
in  it. 

Pakablingge  finally  declared  everything  ready  for 
the  contest,  and  Panaqui,  who  had  been  assigned  to 
throw  the  ring,  took  his  place  at  the  outer  edge  of  the 
Common  Ground,  ten  lengths  of  a  deerskin  from  the 
javelin-throwers. 

A  dozen  or  more  contestants  entered  the  lists,  but 
as  the  game  progressed  these  narrowed  down  to  three, 
and  at  last  only  two  were  left,  a  stout  young  brave, 
Choolu  the  Little  Fox,  and  Wanahta. 

After  a  short  consultation  it  was  decided  to  allow 
three  javelins  apiece  in  the  final  test.  Two  of  the 
throws  were  to  be  made  with  the  javelin  held  in  the 
center  and  thrown  with  the  hand  raised  above  the 
shoulder. 


46  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

But  the  third  throw,  if  a  third  should  be  required, 
was  to  be  the  most  difficult  one  of  the  game.  In  this 
throw  the  javelin  was  held  by  placing  the  forefinger 
against  the  end  of  the  instrument,  supporting  it  with 
the  thumb  and  second  finger.  From  this  position  it 
was  hurled  horizontally  at  the  speeding  circle. 

The  sun  was  now  well  toward  the  end  of  his  daily 
journey,  and  Little  Fox  and  Wanahta  took  their 
positions  on  the  western  edge  of  the  Common  Ground, 
that  the  rays  might  not  dazzle  their  eyes. 

The  Crooked  One,  standing  to  the  north  the  proper 
distance  from  the  spearsmen,  awaited  the  signal  to 
let  fly  the  hoop. 

Little  Fox  threw  first,  and  his  javelin  caught  its 
point  in  the  speeding  ring  and  held  it  fast.  His  friends 
applauded;  but  when  Wanahta  stepped  forward  and 
raised  his  hand  to  signal  that  he  was  ready  there  was 
a  respectful  silence.  For  a  moment  the  sinewy  arm 
of  Wanahta  held  the  slender  spear  above  his  head; 
then  as  the  little  wheel  came  whirling  across  the 
arena,  the  throw  was  made.  But  Wanahta  had  mis- 
calculated the  time  by  half  a  second,  and  the  point  of 
his  spear  struck  the  forward  edge  of  the  hoop,  and  spear 
and  wheel  fell  in  a  little  cloud  of  dust,  several  feet  apart. 

A  great  sigh  went  up  from  the  crowd,  for  Wanahta 
was  a  favorite  with  the  Arctides,  and  Meeme  turned 
her  face  away  to  hide  the  tears  of  disappointment  in 
her  eyes. 


The  Buffalo-Dance  47 

The  second  throw  of  Little  Fox  was  less  successful, 
his  javelin  going  over  the  ring  and  striking  nearly 
at  the  feet  of  those  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
ground. 

Wanahta  was  more  fortunate,  his  second  javelin 
catching  the  inside  edge  of  the  wheel  and  ringing  it 
safely. 

The  contestants  were  now  on  an  equal  footing  for 
the  most  difficult  test,  and  excitement  became  intense; 
the  friends  of  both  Little  Fox  and  Wanahta  pressing 
forward,  silent  and  watchful. 

Little  Fox  stepped  out  briskly  for  his  final  throw, 
and  poising  his  javelin  carefully,  gave  the  signal  that 
he  was  ready. 

As  the  ring  shot  past  him  he  let  fly  the  javelin,  and 
the  wheel  and  spear  fell  together  in  the  center  of  the 
arena. 

The  crowd  shouted  in  admiration  of  the  throw,  and 
the  friends  of  Little  Fox,  feeling  sure  that  he  had 
won,  waited  impatiently  for  Pakablingge  to  come  for- 
ward and  examine  the  instruments.  But  when  the 
warrior  lifted  up  the  slender  spear  which  lay  across 
the  ring,  without  disturbing  the  ring  itself  in  the 
least,  a  hush  fell  upon  the  assembly,  for  the  people 
knew  the  throw  of  Little  Fox  had  failed. 

Wanahta  selected  for  his  final  throw  a  slender  shaft 
fully  six  feet  long,  oiled  and  rubbed  until  it  shone  like 
a  bone  in  the  desert.  Thrice  he  poised  it  high  above 


48  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

his  head,  holding  it  firm  and  straight  by  the  extreme 
end.  Thrice  he  lowered  it,  measuring  the  distance 
with  a  practiced  eye.  Then  he  gave  the  signal  and 
the  ring  sped  from  the  hand  of  Panaqui.  Like  a 
frightened  bird  it  flew  across  the  arena,  and  straight 
as  a  ray  of  sunlight  shot  the  javelin  to  meet  it.  There 
were  the  staccato  sounds  of  hardwood  meeting  hard- 
wood, a  tiny  puff  of  dust,  and  the  spear  stood  quiver- 
ing in  the  earth,  the  ring  trembling  about  it. 

Then  indeed  the  people  leaped  and  danced  and 
shouted  for  joy.  Wanahta  had  set  a  mark  for  the 
most  skillful  thrower  in  the  game.  No  need  for  the 
judges  here — every  one  might  see  for  himself;  and  the 
victorious  contestant  was  immediately  the  center  of  an 
admiring  throng  of  men,  women,  and  children. 

Quickly  Meeme  brought  the  skin  of  the  buffalo 
that  Shangadaya  had  prepared  and  laid  it  over  the 
shoulders  of  the  victor.  She  bound  the  skin  securely 
about  Wanahta's  neck  and  under  his  arms,  with  the 
head  of  the  bull  covering  the  head  of  the  hunter,  giv- 
ing him  the  fierce  likeness  of  the  animal  itself. 

After  Meeme  had  bound  the  thongs  of  the  buffalo- 
hide  firmly  about  the  body  of  the  victorious  javelin- 
thrower,  unseen  by  the  rest  of  the  band  she  gave  to 
Wanahta  the  feather  of  a  white  pigeon  that  during 
the  contest  she  had  worn  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 

As  Wanahta's  fingers  closed  on  the  delicate  feather, 
he  pressed  the  hand  of  the  fair  giver  softly,  and 


The  Buffalo-Dance  49 

Meeme,  frightened  at  her  boldness,  dropped  her  shin- 
ing eyes  till  their  lashes  swept  her  burning  cheeks,  and 
slipped  quickly  away  into  the  crowd. 

In  another  moment  Wanahta  had  sprung  to  the 
center  of  the  Common  Ground  and  shouted  a  challenge 
to  the  surrounding  braves.  The  hunters  instantly  took 
up  the  cry,  and  armed  with  tomahawks,  war-clubs,  and 
spears,  began  dancing  and  circling  around  the  victor 
in  imitation  of  the  chase. 

Wanahta  led  the  dancers,  and  all  together  they  sang 
the  song  of  the  buffalo-hunt,  a  wild,  weird  chant  of 
pleading  and  exultation  combined,  accompanied  by  the 
beating  of  the  war-drums  and  the  shaking  of  number- 
less rattles.  One  after  another  the  villagers  joined  in 
the  festival,  the  women  gliding  gracefully  about  the 
throng  of  dancers,  keeping  time  with  feet  and  bodies 
to  the  rhythmic  measure  of  the  song. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  PIASAU 

The  hunters  gone,  the  village  became  once  more  a 
scene  of  homely  quiet.  The  women  sewed  on  the  skins 
they  were  cleverly  fashioning  into  robes  for  themselves 
or  their  husbands,  rocked  the  cradles  of  their  children, 
and  rubbed  to  softness  the  newly  tanned  hides  between 
bits  of  fine-grained  stones. 

The  girls  busied  themselves  weaving  baskets,  the 
wild  plum  baskets  and  the  carrying  baskets,  and  also 
the  meal-bowl  and  the  water-bottle.  The  old  men 
molded  pots  and  gourds  of  clay  of  great  endurance, 
and  wrought  cunningly  upon  them,  in  soft  colors,  pic- 
tures of  fishes  and  birds. 

The  children  gathered  nuts  in  the  forest,  fished  in 
the  smaller  streams  that  emptied  into  the  Long  River, 
ran  races  on  the  billowy  prairie,  or  shot  their  arrows 
at  targets  on  the  Common  Ground. 

The  growing  boys  talked  boastingly  of  the  future, 
when  they  too  should  join  in  the  hunt,  or  become  power- 
ful warriors  and  wise  chieftains,  leading  their  tribe  in 
action,  instead  of  only  running  races  across  the  prairie 
and  shooting  their  arrows  in  the  sun. 

50 


The  Piasau  51 

At  evening  they  gathered  in  eager  groups  around 
Tioma,  who  told  them  wonderful  adventures  that  had 
befallen  in  the  war  and  in  the  chase.  When  they 
wearied  of  his  stories  he  related  the  deeds  of  Strong- 
heart,  who  so  lately  had  gone  from  amongst  them, 
recounting  his  virtues  and  the  acts  of  fearless  heroism 
that  he  had  performed.  The  boys  never  tired  of  this, 
and  longed  to  imitate  the  departed  chieftain. 

And  all  the  people  lamented  Strongheart,  and 
mourned  because  he  had  left  no  son  to  carry  forward 
his  work  of  killing  the  Piasau. 

Minno  was  now  rarely  seen  about  the  village. 
Since  Strongheart's  death  he  had  remained  almost 
constantly  in  the  forest,  walking  alone.  The  loss  of 
his  son,  of  whom  he  had  hoped  so  much  for  his  peo- 
ple, was  a  blow  to  the  aged  prophet,  and  the  lines  of 
sorrow  deepened  in  his  face  as  time  wore  on. 

Fatalities  attributed  to  the  evil  influence  of  Piasau 
were  appearing  constantly.  The  dead  bodies  of  young 
men  who  had  gone  forth  in  perfect  health  and  the 
strength  of  manhood  were  often  found,  lying  face 
downward  on  the  velvety  turf  of  the  forest,  but  with 
no  mark  of  a  weapon  upon  them.  Fear  sat  like  a  king 
in  the  staring  eyeballs,  and  the  muscles  of  the  face 
seemed  frozen  with  terror.  Bravest  of  the  brave  in 
life,  fearless  in  battle,  giants  in  the  hunt,  in  death  their 
faces  told  a  tale  of  horror  which  could  have  been  born 
only  of  the  sight  of  the  Piasau. 


52  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Frequently  canoes  were  caught  in  the  whirlpools 
of  the  river,  swept  with  irresistible  force  to  the  rapids 
under  the  high  cliffs,  and  crushed  upon  the  rocks,  while 
their  occupants  were  sucked  into  the  whirlpool  to  be 
lost  to  the  sight  of  the  tribe  forever. 

Wahwun,  the  medicine-man,  was  always  in  the 
medicine  lodge  now,  beating  his  drums,  shaking  his 
rattles,  moaning  the  songs  of  lamentation,  and  crying 
in  great  distress  to  his  good  spirits  to  send  relief  to  the 
Arctides. 

Sometimes  his  voice  was  the  droning  voice  of  old 
age,  pleading  fitfully  for  succor;  sometimes  it  swelled 
in  volume,  rolling  from  between  his  lips  in  such  a 
mighty  sound  that  the  sides  of  the  medicine  lodge 
quivered  as  though  shaken  by  a  storm,  while  the  trees 
of  the  wood  vibrated  with  the  shock  of  his  supplica- 
tions, and  it  seemed  the  whole  forest  sent  back  an 
answering  wail.  Then  a  piercing  cold  would  come  upon 
the  listeners,  and  they  would  shiver  and  moan,  and 
the  hairs  of  their  heads  would  crisp  with  fear. 

This  would  be  followed  by  long  silences,  in  which 
the  listeners  feared  that  Wahwun  too  had  been  stricken 
dead,  but  suddenly  his  voice  would  be  raised  again, 
louder,  more  weird  than  before,  and  the  villagers, 
catching  up  the  refrain,  would  send  the  song  into  the 
forest,  where  it  echoed  and  reechoed  until  the  world 
seemed  filled  with  it. 


The  Piasau  53 

In  vain  did  the  tribe  pray  for  the  triumphant  notes 
that  should  proclaim  the  pacification  of  the  evil  spirit, 
but  the  song  that  might  promise  relief  the  medicine- 
man never  uttered. 

Yet  however  great  their  disappointment,  the  peo- 
ple never  for  a  moment  lost  faith  in  Minno.  To  him 
alone  the  Children  of  the  Sun  now  looked  to  free  them 
from  the  curse  of  the  dreaded  Piasau. 

In  all  the  years  since  as  a  boy  he  had  first  communed 
with  the  Manitos  he  had  never  failed  to  advise  them 
wisely.  Implicitly  they  trusted  in  his  judgment  and 
waited  for  him  to  speak. 

The  kindly  prophet  had  changed  greatly  during 
the  last  moon.  From  the  day  they  had  brought  the 
slain  Strongheart  home,  Minno  had  seldom  spoken. 
All  his  hopes  and  desires  had  gone  out  to  his  brave, 
handsome  son,  and  now  that  he  had  been  taken  from 
him  the  father  was  almost  given  over  to  despair. 

Day  after  day,  so  long  that  the  hearts  of  the  tribe 
grew  heavy  with  longing  for  a  sight  of  his  face,  did 
Minno  hide  himself  in  the  deeps  of  the  forest,  listening 
for  the  voice  of  the  Great  Spirit,  that  should  bring 
words  of  hope  for  the  unhappy  Arctides. 

But  the  voice  was  silent,  and  after  each  fast,  more 
sorrowful  and  more  dejected  than  ever,  Minno  returned 
to  his  people. 

But  one  day,  soon  after  the  buffalo-hunters  had 


54  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

departed,  Minno  appeared  in  the  village  with  the  light 
of  hope  rekindled  in  his  kindly  eyes.  He  carried  his 
head  erect,  and  trod  with  the  springy  step  of  youth. 
As  he  neared  the  tepees  Minno  stopped  to  talk  pleas- 
antly with  the  women.  He  laughed  with  the  children 
at  their  play.  A  smile  dwelt  upon  his  lips,  and  a  glad, 
holy  light  was  in  his  great  dark  eyes. 

The  prophet  halted  as  he  reached  the  lodge  of 
Pakoble,  the  widow  of  Strongheart.  When  she  came 
out  to  greet  him,  Minno  tenderly  embraced  her,  noting 
meanwhile,  with  the  love  of  a  tender  parent,  the 
beautiful  soul  that  shone  in  her  lustrous  eyes. 

"  Minno  is  much  rejoiced  to-day,  is  it  not  so,  father 
of  my  beloved?"  said  Pakoble,  standing  reverently 
before  the  prophet  and  bending  her  head  to  touch 
with  her  lips  the  hand  she  had  taken  between  her  own 
soft  palms. 

"The  voice  of  the  Great  Spirit  has  deigned  to 
bring'good  tidings  to  Minno,"  said  the  reverent  prophet. 
"  Minno  has  had  good  dreams.  There  is  a  glorious 
song  in  his  soul.  He  rejoices  in  the  future  of  the 
Children  of  the  Sun.  The  voice  in  the  forest  spoke 
words  of  comfort  and  hope  to  Minno,  and  the  Children 
of  the  Sun  are  soon  to  be  greatly  blessed.  Not  for 
long  shall  the  Piasau  triumph.  Be  patient,  Pakoble, 
my  daughter;  thy  heart  too  shall  be  glad." 

Minno  then  turned  away,  and  going  to  the  Council 
Chamber,  stood  for  a  long  time  before  the  Altar  of 


The  Piasau  55 

Hasihta,  and  gazed  with  hopeful  eyes  upon  the  copper 
case  that  held  the  Sacred  Arrow. 

And  suddenly  the  soul  of  Pakoble  was  filled  as  with 
a  great  illumination,  and  she  bowed  her  head  as  wait- 
ing for  a  divine  benediction. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  BIRD  OF  BEAUTIFUL  PLUMAGE 

The  moon,  a  perfect  disk,  rose  slowly  above  the 
brown  line  of  the  distant  hills,  sent  its  mellow  light 
over  the  rolling  prairie  country,  threw  a  silver  bridge 
across  the  Long  River,  and  rested  lovingly  upon  the 
Indian  village  sleeping  softly  on  the  hillside. 

Shangadaya,  the  Old  One,  limping  down  from  the 
summit  of  the  hill,  stopped  suddenly  and  stood  still, 
listening,  with  head  thrust  forward  between  her  bent 
shoulders,  her  yellow-gray  locks  falling  about  her 
shriveled  face.  So  standing,  with  her  skinny  hands 
clutching  her  staff,  she  seemed  some  alien  from  a  world 
afar. 

Deep  in  the  wood,  the  whip-poor-will  called  plain- 
tively. Across  the  river,  a  lone  wolf  sent  to  the  stars 
his  defiant  challenge.  Thejiver  flung  itself  musically 
against  the  base  of  the  Piasau  cliff.  Wondrous  noises 
of  the  forest-night,  half-formed  sounds,  nameless  and 
soulful,  portents  of  mystery! 

"Has  the  ear  of  the  Ojibwa  turned  traitor,  that  it 
tells  lies?"  muttered  the  Old  One.  "Surely,  someone 
called  Shangadaya." 

56 


SHANGADAYA   PUT  OUT    ONE    OF     HER     SHRIVELED     HANDS 
AND   DREW   THE    CROOKED    ONE    CLOSE   TO   HER   SIDE. 


The  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage        57 

"Your  ears  are  not  liars,  wise  mother,"  said  a  shrill 
voice  behind  her.  "  Panaqui  has  been  waiting  for  you, 
wishing  for  you  since  the  sunset." 

Without  taking  her  eyes  from  the  distant  village, 
Shangadaya  put  out  one  of  her  shriveled,  knotty  hands, 
and  drawing  the  Crooked  One  close  to  her  side,  mut- 
tered hoarsely: 

"  Does  Panaqui  know  what  is  in  the  heart  of  Shan- 
gadaya?" 

"Panaqui  knows  well,"  replied  the  dwarf,  his  small 
eyes  a-glitter  and  his  receding  chin  trembling  repul- 
sively; "for  his  own  heart  is  full  of  hatred  for  the 
Arctides." 

The  Old  One's  fingers  patted  the  hairy  arm  of  her 
son  affectionately,,  but  her  eyes  now  sought  the  fire 
that,  burning  on  the  Altar  of  Hasihta,  cast  a  flickering 
light  on  the  Guardian  Pine  standing  near  the  door  of 
the  Council  Chamber. 

"  Listen,  my  son.  Shangadaya  has  been  all  day  in 
the  lodge  of  the  Metas,  and  they  have  told  her  sweet 
secrets." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  wise  mother.  Was  it  of  the 
Arrow  of  the  Sun  they  spoke  ?" 

"  Panaqui  has  the  gift  of  his  mother  for  discerning," 
croaked  the  Old  One.  "  It  was  of  the  Arrow." 

"  And  the  secret  of  obtaining  it,  mother;  did  they 
tell  you  that?"  The  dwarf  drew  nearer  as  he  spoke, 
and  peered  eagerly  into  the  face  of  the  witch. 


58  A  ^Child  of  the  Sun 

"  If  Panaqui  would  open  the  casket  of  copper  which 
holds  the  hope  of  Arctides,  let  him  listen.  It  has  been 
proclaimed  that  if  one  of  the  blood  of  the  beaver 
totem  stand  before  the  Altar  of  Hasihta  at  high 
noon  and  whisper  the  word  with  which  the  Great 
Spirit  sealed  up  this  casket,  the  copper  case  will 
open." 

"So  have  I  heard  it  announced  at  the  feasts  ever 
since  I  was  born,"  growled  the  dwarf. 

"  Panaqui  is  the  son  of  Shangadaya,  the  Ojibwa 
captive?" 

"Yes,  mother,"  replied  the  Crooked  One,  impatient 
to  know  the  conclusion. 

"  But  his  father  was  of  the  Arctides,  of  the  totem 
of  the  beaver,  even  a  brother  of  Minno.  If  Panaqui 
had  the  word  he  might  make  good  use  of  it." 

"And  you  have  found  the  word,  wise  mother?" 

"The  Metas  have  been  good  to  Shangadaya  and 
have  repaid  her  for  her  fastings." 

"  The  word,  wise  mother — give  it  to  Panaqui,  that 
he  may  destroy  the  Arrow." 

The  Old  One  stooped  till  her  withered  lips  touched 
the  cheek  of  the  dwarf,  and  whispered — 

Panaqui  started  as  if  he  had  been  stung  and  raised 
his  long,  hairy  arms  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  Is  the  son  of  Shangadaya  a  coward,  that  he  fears 
the  sound  of  a  word?"  cried  the  Old  One,  fiercely 
clutching  her  staff. 


The  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage        59 

"  Panaqui  will  have  the  Arrow,"  doggedly  muttered 
the  Crooked  One.  "The  Arrow!  The  Arrow!" 

"Brave  boy!  noble  boy!"  crooned  the  Old  One, 
running  her  bony  fingers  lightly  over  the  head  of 
Panaqui.  "  The  Arctides  looked  for  one  of  the  blood 
of  Minno  to  destroy  the  Piasau.  Minno  has  had  good 
dreams  of  late,  and  the  signs  are  auspicious.  Should 
a  son  be  born  to  Pakoble  the  Arrow  must  not  wait  in 
the  casket  till  he  is  strong  enough  to  draw  a  bowstring. 
Shangadaya  has  been  kept  for  years  from  her  people. 
She  has  been  deceived,  betrayed.  Was  it  not  Pakoble 
who  said  to  Panaqui,  'Remember'?" 

"An  Ojibwa  never  forgets  or  forgives  a  wrong," 
hoarsely  whispered  the  dwarf.  "  When  the  sun  stands 
unclouded  at  the  zenith — the  word —  Good  night, 
wise  mother.  Panaqui  will  remember." 

The  Old  One,  crouching  over  her  staff,  watched 
the  retreating  figure  of  the  dwarf  until  it  disappeared 
in  the  shadows,  and  then  bent  her  steps  to  where  a 
torch  burning  in  one  of  the  larger  tepees,  near  the 
center  of  the  village,  threw  a  feeble  gleam  of  light 
through  the  door.  As  she  walked,  Shangadaya  crooned 
to  herself  in  a  low,  harsh  voice  an  Ojibwa  cradle-song. 
The  light  was  from  the  tepee  of  Pakoble,  which  the  Old 
One  entered,  dropping  the  curtains  of  skins  behind  her. 

Higher  and  higher  climbed  the  moon,  until  it  stood 
squarely  in  the  heavens.  Then,  suddenly,  out  of  the 
southern  sky  a  star  shot  earthward,  leaving  behind  its 


60  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

trail  of  luminous  light.  Straight  toward  the  village 
came  the  star,  and  as  it  passed  over  the  lodge  where 
the  torch  glowed  dimly,  the  star  was  a  star  no  more, 
but  a  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage. 

Three  times  the  bird  circled  above  the  lodge,  and 
then,  alighting  upon  it,  began  calling  in  a  sweet,  clear 
voice: 

"Minno!  Minno!  the  Good!" 

Minno  came  from  his  lodge,  and  going  a  short 
distance  in  the  direction  of  the  voice,  said  calmly: 

"Minno  is  here;  who  calls  him?" 

"Is  the  prophet  of  Arctides  asleep,  that  he  can- 
not see?"  sang  the  bird. 

Then  Minno  looked  and  saw  the  Bird  of  Beautiful 
Plumage  sitting  on  the  pole  above  the  wigwam  of 
Pakoble.  And  his  heart  was  glad,  for  he  knew  the 
bird  to  be  a  messenger  of  Gitche  Manito,  the  Great 
Spirit,  bringing  good  words  to  his  people. 

"You  know,  Minno,"  continued  the  bird,  "that  for 
many  generations  a  fierce  monster  has  lain  in  wait  to 
destroy  the  people  of  the  tribe  of  Arctides." 

"I  know;  it  is  the  Great  Piasau,"  replied  Minno, 
solemnly.  "  Minno  has  looked  upon  the  Bird  of 
Evil." 

"And  because  he  has  obeyed  the  voice  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  fasting  and  walking  alone  in  the  forest,  he  lives. 
The  Piasau  was  powerless  to  harm  him.  Know  then 
that  the  time  is  come  for  the  fulfillment  of  the  proph- 


The  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage       61 

ecy,  that  a  child  of  your  blood  should  be  born  to 
destroy  the  evil." 

"  Long  have  we  waited,"  said  Minno.  "  But  half  a 
moon  ago,  while  Minno  slept  in  the  forest,  he  was  told 
that  the  first  child  of  his  blood,  to  be  born  when  the 
moon  stood  fair  and  full  above  the  Sacred  Spring, 
should  be  gifted  with  power  to  destroy  the  monster." 

"To-night  the  moon  is  fair  and  full  above  the 
Sacred  Spring,"  replied  the  bird,  "and  now,  even  now, 
a  child,  a  man-child,  has  been  born  to  Pakoble,  the 
Rose.  He  shall  be  called  Waupello,  a  Child  of  the  Sun, 
and  by  his  hand  shall  fall  the  Piasau.  Hasten  then, 
Minno,  to  tell  the  Arctides,  that  they  may  make  a 
great  feast  to  Gitche  Manito,  the  Merciful  Father, 
proving  their  gratitude  to  him." 

While  Minno  stood  wrapped  in  contemplation  of 
this  great  blessing,  the  bird  ceased  its  song,  and  rising 
high  in  the  air,  circled  three  times  again  above  the 
lodge  of  Pakoble.  Then,  flying  -  straight  into  the 
upper  air,  it  was  lost  in  the  hollow  depths  of  the  sky. 

A  moment  only  Minno  stood,  gazing  in  wonder 
after  the  beautiful  messenger.  Then  he  hastened  joy- 
fully to  the  lodge  of  Pakoble  to  look  upon  the  child. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  COUNCIL 

When  it  became  known  in  the  village  that  a  son 
had  been  born  to  Pakoble  in  accordance  with  the 
prophecy  of  Minno,  the  people  were  exultant,  and  a 
great  feast  to  Gitche  Manito,  the  Merciful,  was  pro- 
claimed that  should  continue  for  twelve  days.  Run- 
ners bearing  painted  quills,  to  summon  the  leading 
chiefs  to  Council,  were  sent  to  the  other  villagers  of 
the  tribe  of  the  Arctides. 

Fires  of  rejoicing  were  lighted  on  all  the  watch- 
towers,  and  pure  tobacco  scattered  to  the  flames,  so 
that  for  miles  along  the  river  spiral  columns  of  incense 
ascended  continually  to  heaven,  bearing  the  prayers  of 
the  people. 

When  the  chiefs  were  assembled,  they  seated  them- 
selves about  the  Council  fire  to  smoke  the  Calumet  as 
an  offering  to  the  good  spirits  before  they  proceeded 
with  their  deliberations. 

Each  chief,  as  the  pipe  passed  into  his  hands, 
placed  it  between  his  lips,  drawing  deeply  upon  the 
red  stem,  puffing  the  smoke  to  the  earth  on  either  side 
in  honor  of  the  dead,  and  three  times  toward  the 

62 


RISING    TO    HIS    FEET    MINNO     DREW    HIS  ROBE   OF  DEER 
SKIN   CLOSELY   ABOUT   HIM. 


The  Council  63 

heavens  in  token  of  their  love  of  Gitche  Manito,  the 
Father  of  All.  When  each  had  smoked  in  his  turn, 
they  bent  their  eyes  upon  Minno,  waiting  in  silence 
until  he  could  speak. 

Rising  to  his  feet,  Minno  drew  his  robe  of  deer- 
skin closely  about  him,  and  standing  thus  arrayed  in 
the  rich  garments  of  the  prophet,  spoke  as  follows: 

"Children  of  the  Great  Spirit,  Minno  has  invited 
you  to  sit  in  Council  that  he  may  make  known  to  you 
something  that  shall  cause  your  hearts  to  sing  like  the 
stream  in  the  Leaf  Moon. 

"When  Minno  was  yet  a  youth,  preparing  to  go 
forth  to  the  battle  for  the  first  time,  he  blackened  his 
face  for  the  vigil;  taking  the  mat  of  rushes,  the  mat 
his  mother  had  woven,  he  went  to  the  forest  to  fast 
as  the  tribe  has  prescribed  for  the  warriors.  Greatly 
he  longed  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  Merciful  Spirit  tell- 
ing him  he  should  become  a  chieftain,  leading  his  peo- 
ple in  battle.  Like  a  young  ash  were  his  limbs,  and 
light  his  step,  like  the  step  of  the  panther. 

"  He  longed  to  go  at  the  head  of  a  company  of 
young  braves,  destroying  the  foes  of  Arctides,  think- 
ing, as  do  the  young,  of  the  scalps  that  should  hang 
from  his  war-belt. 

"  But  while  he  lay  asleep  on  his  mat  in  the  heart  of 
the  forest,  he  saw  in  his  dream,  while  the  stars  hung 
thick  in  the  heavens,  a  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage,  a 
bird  with  a  voice  like  sweet  music. 


64  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"And  the  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage  said  to  the  young 
man  Minno:  'Not  for  you  is  the  glory  of  war  and  the 
fierce  joy  of  chasing  the  buffalo.  Go  back  to  the  vil- 
lage, to  those  who  await  your  returning.  Wash  in  the 
cool  blue  river  the  black  paint  from  your  eyelids, 
washing  it  too  from  your  lips  and  your  cheeks  and 
the  temples  above  them. 

"'Put  from  your  min:1  all  thought  of  glory  in  war 
or  in  hunting,  and  when  the  moon  is  once  more  a  slen- 
der bow  in  the  heavens,  go  to  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  the 
cliff  that  runs  up  from  the  valley,  and  there  by  the 
Sacred  Spring  bury  deep  your  bows  and  your  arrows; 
bury  your  tomahawk  too,  and  your  war-spear  likewise 
you  must  bury. 

"'I,  the  Great  Spirit,  have  chosen  that  you  shall 
fast  and  walk  alone  in  the  forest.  Quick  shall  your 
ears  be  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  good  Manitos,  so  that 
you  may  prove  to  be  strong  and  wise  in  the  Council/ 

"  Finished  the  Spirit  his  speaking,  and  Minno  went 
back  to  his  wigwam,  washed  from  his  face  the  paint, 
the  black  paint  of  the  faster;  and  when  the  slender 
moon  a  pale  crescent  shone  in  the  heavens,  took  he 
his  bows  and  arrows,  took  he  his  spear  and  his  paddle, 
also  his  tomahawk  took  he,  and  buried  them  deep  in 
the  earth. 

"  Now  for  many  moons  has  he  wrought  the  will  of 
the  Father  of  all  the  Arctides. 

"Once  my  people  were  many,  brave  and  patient 


The  Council  65 

have  they  always  been.  And  now  when  the  limbs  of 
Minno  shake  like  the  reed  in  the  storm,  when  his  eyes 
no  more  can  behold  unshaded  the  sun,  the  Great  Spirit 
has  deigned  to  bless  his  people.  A  child  of  the  blood 
of  Minno  is  born  to  destroy  the  Piasau, 

"Last  night,  as  the  Spirit  had  promised,  while 
the  fair  moon  hung  in  the  heavens  full  over  the  Sacred 
Waters,  a  child  was  born  to  Pakoble,  and  lay  in  the 
arms  of  the  mother,  a  man-child  of  the  blood  of 
Minno. 

"When  first  the  babe  drew  breath,  out  of  the  blue 
dome  of  heaven  shot  a  silver  star,  straight  to  Pakoble's 
lodge-pole,  and  as  it  neared  the  earth  the  star,  changing 
quickly,  came  as  a  bird  with  wings,  a  bird  of  beau- 
tiful plumage. 

"Called  to  me  as  it  came,  singing,  'Minno,  come 
forth  from  thy  lodge,  for  a  son  has  been  born  to  Pako- 
ble. Wise  shall  he  be,  and  like  the  wind  of  the  south 
in  the  seedtime,  strong,  gentle,  and  kind,  driving  away 
evil  and  bringing  good  to  his  people.' 

"  Hence  have  I  called  you  together,  that  you  might 
join  in  the  feast  that  the  joyful  now  are  preparing,  a 
feast  to  the  Merciful  One  for  this,  the  greatest  of 
blessings." 

When  Minno  had  concluded,  the  Calumet  was  again 
passed  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  chiefs,  that  they 
might  offer  up  incense  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  his  good- 
ness. Then,  one  after  another,  they  arose  solemnly, 


66  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

and  going  to  the  lodge  of  Pakoble,  each  in  turn  laid 
before  the  door  of  her  tepee  his  finest  arrows,  his 
softest  furs,  and  his  most  beautiful  feathers. 

Having  given  their  offerings,  they  returned  to  the 
Council  Chamber,  while  the  preparations  were  making 
for  the  great  feast  to  Gitche  Manito,  Father  of  All. 


CHAPTER  X 

FEAST  OF  WAUPELLO,  THE  FIRSTBORN 

The  black  frost  had  fallen  and  the  brown  grass  on 
the  prairie  spread  a  thick  blanket  over  the  earth.  The 
streams  were  fringed  with  thin  layers  of  ice,  delicately 
figured  and  starred.  The  grouse  were  grown,  and 
assembled  in  numberless  flocks  for  their  better  protec- 
tion against  the  approaching  winter.  The  feathered 
tribes,  from  the  great  sand-hill  cranes  to  the  tiniest 
song-birds,  were  migrating  southward.  All  day  long 
the  air  was  filled  with  the  cronk  of  geese,  the  calling 
of  mallards,  and  the  whirring  of  pigeons.  Thousands 
of  blackbirds,  resting  from  their  flight,  rang  their 
silver  chimes  in  the  treetops. 

The  feast  of  thanksgiving  had  reached  the  seventh 
day,  when  a  new  chord  was  added  to  the  great  chorus 
of  nature.  It  was  the  braves  returning  from  the 
buffalo-hunt,  chanting  the  Song  of  Success.  Long 
before  they  could  be  seen  the  melody  of  their  song 
was  borne  on  the  clear  frosty  air  to  the  ears  of  the 
glad  Arctides. 

As  the  hunters  came  nearer,  the  people,  listening 
for  the  words,  heard  them  jubilantly  chanting  the 

prowess  of  Wanahta: 

67 


68  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Hark  ye  the  Song  of  the  Hunters! 
The  song  of  the  hunters  returning, 
Singing  the  gallant  Wanahta, 
Wanahta,  the  greatest  of  hunters. 
Fearlessly  faced  he  Pezheke, 
The  Jaba  Pezheke,  he  slew  him, 
With  his  bow  of  the  singing  white  cedar 
And  his  arrow  flint-pointed  he  slew  him, 
The  Bull,  the  Jaba  Pezheke. 

Like  a  shaft  from  the  sky  sped  his  arrow, 
Like  a  shaft  from  the  bow  of  the  Thunder; 
To  the  feather  it  sank  in  the  Jaba, 
To  the  very  tip-end  of  the  feather. 
And  the  Jaba  Pezheke  rolled  over, 
Rolled  dead  at  the  feet  of  Wanahta; 
With  a  roar  like  the  fall  of  the  pine-tree, 
The  Jaba  Pezheke  fell  dying; 
Hence  chant  we  the  praise  of  Wanahta. 

Hark  ye  the  Song  of  the  Hunters! 
Ye  of  the  tribe  of  Arctides. 
Meat  ye  shall  have  for  the  winter, 
Meat  and  the  robes  of  Pezheke. 
Build  ye  the  fires  for  the  feasting, 
Bring  forth  the  drums  and  the  rattles. 
Daughters  of  all  the  Arctides, 
Brighten  your  eyes  for  the  hunters, 
Join  in  the  praise  of  Wanahta. 


Feast  of  Waupello,  the  Firstborn      69 

Full,  mellow,  and  strong  came  the  song,  and  out 
toward  the  meadows  hurried  the  people,  running  joy- 
fully to  meet  the  hunters.  But  another  joy  than  that 
of  the  chase  was  in  their  hearts  and  another  song  on 
their  lips.  And  back  over  the  crisp  brown  grass  went 
the  glad  triumphant  chant  of  the  glad  ones,  the  Song 
of  Waupello: 

Hark  ye,  O  hunters  returning! 

Hark  ye,  O  fearless  Wanahta! 

Shout  for  the  son  of  Pakoble, 

Shout  for  Waupello,  the  firstborn. 

Blessed  by  the  star  out  of  heaven, 

Bird  of  the  Beautiful  Plumage, 

Telling  to  Minno,  the  prophet, 

Telling  to  Minno,  our  father, 

The  son  of  Pakoble,  Waupello, 

Was  born  to  destroy  the  Piasau, 

The  monster  of  evil,  Piasau. 

Haste  ye,  O  hunters  returning! 

Haste  ye  with  meat  of  Pezheke; 

Cast  to  the  fires  of  the  altar 

Bodies  entire  of  Pezheke, 

That  the  smell  of  the  meat  and  its  burning 

May  fill  all  the  heavens  above  us 

A  feast  to  the  Merciful  Father, 

Who  gave  us  the  son  of  Pakoble, 

To  slay  with  the  wonderful  Arrow 

The  terror  of  all  the  Arctides, 


70  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

The  monster,  the  bird,  the  Piasau. 
Shout!  shout!  for  the  little  Waupello, 
Waupello,  a  Child  of  the  Sun. 


The  hunters  coming  nearer  and  hearing  the  song, 
became  dumb  with  astonishment,  thinking  because  of 
their  strange  actions  that  a  sudden  madness  had  seized 
upon  the  people;  but  as  they  gathered  the  full  meaning 
of  the  words,  they  lost  sight  of  their  own  success,  and 
rushed  forward  to  join  the  others  in  their  joyful  dem- 
onstrations. Those  who  had  been  commissioned  to 
carry  the  fruits  of  the  chase  threw  their  burdens  to 
the  ground  and  hurried  forward  with  the  others. 
Quickly  all,  warriors,  hunters,  and  villagers,  returned 
to  the  feast,  chanting  the  Song  of  Waupello. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  common  ground  where 
the  feast  was  being  celebrated,  Minno  arose,  and  after 
a  simple  prayer  of  thankfulness  to  the  Great  Spirit  for 
the  safe  return  of  the  hunters,  and  a  fresh  offering  of 
tobacco  to  the  flames,  the  braves  seated  themselves  to 
join  in  the  repast. 

Wanahta,  standing  a  little  apart  from  the  others 
waiting  for  Minno  to  assign  him  a  place  at  the  feast, 
felt  a  light  touch  on  his  arm,  and  looking  down,  saw 
the  pretty  face  of  Meeme  turned  temptingly  toward 
him.  Before  he  could  speak,  she  laid  a  slender  finger 
to  her  lips,  and  then,  standing  tiptoe,  whispered  some- 
thing in  the  ear  of  the  hero  of  the  hunt. 


A   RED    GLOW   SWEPT   INTO    HIS    COPPER-COLORED    CHEEKS 


Feast  of  Waupello,  the  Firstborn      71 

Wanahta  started,  and  a  red  glow  swept  into  his 
copper-colored  cheeks. 

"  Do  you  think  I  might?"  said  the  hunter,  trem- 
bling and  awkward  for  once. 

"Come!"  cried  the  Pigeon,  giving  the  big  brave's 
sinewy  arm  a  gentle  pinch.  "  It  is  only  a  pretty  child 
and  not  a  great  Jaba  that  you  are  to  look  upon.  And 
it  is  a  great  favor,  I  can  assure  you,  for  Minno  guards 
his  grandson  as  the  light  of  his  eyes." 

"As  he  should  do,"  replied  Wanahta;  "  for  does 
not  the  fate  of  all  the  Arctides  lie  in  those  baby 
fingers?" 

"I  should  know  that  by  this  time,"  said  Meeme, 
with  a  saucy  toss  of  her  head.  "The  Arctides  have 
said  and  sung  nothing  else  for  the  last  seven  days. 
But  he  is  really  a  beautiful  little  fellow,"  said  she,  with 
a  sudden  change  of  manner,  "and  I  thought  Wanahta 
would  be  pleased  at  the  chance  to  look  upon  him." 

"So  I  shall  be,  Little  Pigeon,  if  you  think  me 
worthy,"  the  hunter  replied,  with  a  reverent  bending  of 
the  proud  head. 

"  For  answer  Minno  caught  hold  of  the  Wanahta's 
hand  and  started  away  toward  the  lodge  of  Pakoble, 
glad  of  the  opportunity  to  see  the  child  whose  coming 
had  so  lightened  the  hearts  of  all  his  tribe.  Wanahta 
now  went  willingly  enough,  and  a  moment  later  the  two 
stood  within  the  tepee  of  Pakoble. 

For  a  moment  the  big-  sinewy  hunter  stood  with 


72  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

bowed  head  beside  the  couch  of  rich  furs  upon  which 
Pakoble  was  seated  with  the  child  in  her  arms. 

"The  Jaba,  the  buffalo  bull  that  I  slew,  he  shall  go 
entire  to  the  altar,  a  sacrifice  to  the  Sun,"  whispered 
Wanahta;  and  touching  with  reverent  fingers  the  deli- 
cate robe  of  Waupello,  the  hunter  went  softly  out  of 
the  lodge. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  CHILD  OF  THE  SUN 

The  joy  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun  over  the  birth 
of  the  grandson  of  Minno  was  so  great  that  nothing 
else  occupied  their  minds.  From  moon  to  moon  they 
made  feasts  and  sacrifices,  danced  and  chanted  hymns 
of  thankfulness  to  the  Great  Spirit,  while  the  flesh  of 
the  white  buffalo  burned  continually  on  the  altar  in 
the  Council  Chamber. 

Even  the  fear  of  Piasau,  which  for  so  many  gener- 
ations had  filled  their  hearts,  was  allayed.  The  hunt- 
ers went  forth  to  the  chase  with  new  songs  of  gladness, 
and  returned  with  chants  of  triumph,  unmixed  with 
doubt  or  dread. 

The  lodge  of  Pakoble  had  become  the  repository 
of  every  beautiful  shell,  or  rare  stone,  or  delicate 
feather  that  fell  under  the  eyes  of  the  people.  Willing 
hands  had  enlarged  the  lodge,  cutting  for  it  corner- 
posts  of  spicy  cedar,  and  stretching  over  them  the 
largest  elk  and  buffalo  hides,  until  the  home  of  Little 
Waupello  was  nearly  as  big  and  imposing  as  the 
Council  Chamber. 

Eleven  months  had  come  and  gone  since  the  birth  of 

73 


74  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

the  son  of  Strongheart,  and  the  twelfth  moon  stood  once 
more  full  and  fair  above  the  Sacred  Spring,  when  again 
the  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage  came  to  Pakoble,  and  said: 

"Pakoble,  wife  of  Strongheart,  take  the  boy  and 
bathe  him  in  the  waters  of  the  Sacred  Spring,  that  he 
may  be  proof  against  the  weapons  of  all  his  enemies, 
and  may  know  the  ways  of  all  the  creatures  of  the 
forest.  Robe  him  then  in  the  garment  of  furs,  the 
garment  your  own  hands  have  fashioned.  So  shall 
he  grow  firm  and  strong  to  aim  the  wonderful  Arrow." 

Glad  of  heart,  Pakoble  hastened  to  do  the  bidding 
of  the  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage.  With  the  child  in 
her  arms,  down  into  the  valley,  through  the  soft  moon- 
light, prayerfully  went  the  young  mother,  chanting 
meanwhile  her  love  for  Waupello,  her  firstborn. 
Tender  her  song,  but  in  it  a  note  of  the  glory  awaiting 
her  child. 

"How  beautiful  are  thy  limbs,"  sang  Pakoble,  the 
Rose.  "  How  delicate  is  thy  dusky  skin,  O  Waupello, 
my  firstborn;  and  thy  hair,  how  it  glistens  in  the 
moonlight. 

"  Thine  eyes  too,  Waupello,  are  they  not  deeply 
luminous,  like  pools  of  the  river  in  shadow?  When  a 
youth  thou  art  grown,  they  will  shine  like  the  stars  of 
the  morning.  Strong  shall  thy  hands  be,  strong  as 
the  withes  of  the  white  oak,  strong  to  send  to  the  heart 
of  the  monster  the  wonderful  Arrow. 

"  Happy,  thrice  happy  am  I,  my  Waupello,  that  you, 


"BATHS  HIM  IN  THE  WATERS  OP  THE  SACRED  SPRING, 
THAT  HE  MAY  BE  PROOF  AGAINST  THE  WEAPONS  OP  ALL  HIS 
ENEMIES." 


A  Child  of  the  Sun  75 

my  firstborn,  are  chosen,  by  the  Great  Spirit  are  called 
to  free  the  land  of  Piasau." 

Singing  thus,  Pakoble  came  to  the  green  borders  of 
the  Sacred  Spring,  and  looking  up,  she  saw  the  Bird 
of  Beautiful  Plumage  hovering  above  her  and  her  son 
in  the  moonlight. 

Deftly  she  spread  the  blanket  of  doeskin  on  the 
greensward,  and  holding  Waupello  tenderly  above  the 
waters,  began  again  to  chant: 

"Gaze  upon  thyself  in  the  Sacred  Waters,  Wau- 
pello, my  darling,  my  firstborn;  see  how  the  moon  has 
changed  the  spring  into  a  bowl  of  silver.  Deep  in  its 
brilliant  depths  lies  the  Moon's  own  sister,  waiting 
with  willing  arms  to  clasp  you  close  to  her  bosom." 

As  the  body  of  the  child  touched  the  water,  the 
Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage  flew  out  of  the  sky,  and 
dipping  its  wings  in  the  Spring,  scattered  bright  drops 
over  the  head  of  the  mother.  Then  it  returned  to  the 
sky,  and  Pakoble,  wrapping  Waupello  in  the  robe  of 
soft  furs,  the  robe  her  fingers  had  fashioned,  bore  him 
back  through  the  village  to  her  lodge  on  the  moonlit 
hillside. 

As  Waupello  increased  in  years,  the  story  of  his 
destiny  spread  amongst  all  the  tribes  of  the  broad  val- 
ley. Chiefs  and  warriors  came  from  distant  villages 
to  look  upon  him  and  present  him  with  gifts. 

Minno  was  also  an  object  of  great  veneration 
amongst  them,  for  it  was  to  him  that  the  Bird  of 


76  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Beautiful  Plumage  had  first  appeared  and  told  of 
Waupello's  coming.  His  wisdom  in  the  Council  had 
long  been  familiar  to  the  chiefs  of  the  different  nations, 
and  now  that  his  numerous  fasts  and  great  self-denial 
in  laying  aside  his  weapons  of  war  had  been  so  signally 
rewarded,  Minno  had  acquired  a  new  dignity  in  the 
eyes  of  all  the  people. 

Many  tribes  with  whom  the  Arctides  were  at  war 
believed  Minno  to  be  favored  by  the  Evil  as  well  as 
the  Good  Spirit;  believed  that  he  could  summon  the 
storm  of  snow  to  o'erwhelm  or  the  Thunder  Bird  to 
destroy  them,  if  they  came  uninvited  into  the  country 
of  the  Arctides. 

Although  the  Piasau  was  not  supposed  to  trouble 
any  of  the  Red  People  who  were  not  of  the  tribe  of 
Arctides,  yet  each  Indian  nation  was  threatened  by 
some  similar  monster  of  earth  or  air,  against  which 
their  weapons  of  war  were  useless.  Even  those  tribes 
who  hated  the  Children  of  the  Sun  were  interested 
more  or  less  in  Waupello.  While  they  had  no  love  for 
the  Arctides  as  a  race,  they  stood  in  awe  of  a  child 
born  under  such  strange  auspices,  and  longed  for  the 
time  when  he  should  strike  the  life  from  the  body 
of  the  Bird  of  Evil. 

As  for  Waupello,  he  was  just  a  healthy,  happy, 
Indian  baby,  rolling  about  on  the  rush  mat  in  his 
mother's  lodge,  shaking  his  wild-gourd  rattle,  looking 
with  owlish  wisdom  out  of  his  big  black  eyes,  or  crow- 


A  Child  of  the  Sun  77 

ing  and  laughing  when  one  of  the  chiefs  tossed  him 
high  in  the  air  or  told  him  wonderful  stories  which 
the  baby  did  not  in  the  least  comprehend. 

But  when  Waupello  was  old  enough  to  understand 
them,  Minno  taught  him  the  simpler  legends  of  the 
tribe  and  tried  gently  to  impress  on  the  boy's  mind 
the  work  that  his  people  looked  to  him  to  do. 

Waupello  grew  tall  and  straight  as  the  arrows  that 
flew  from  his  bow.  With  his  lithe  limbs  and  supple 
body  he  outran  all  the  other  boys  of  the  village.  In 
their  games  and  sports  he  was  easily  the  victor;  already 
his  playmates  had  named  him  Little  Chief  and  offered 
him  a  head-dress  of  partridge-feathers.  But  he  put 
it  quietly  upon  the  head  of  his  smallest  playmate,  and 
ran  away  laughing  to  his  mother. 

Sometimes  Minno  would  take  Waupello  for  long 
walks  in  the  woods,  telling  him  the  names  of  the  birds 
and  animals,  the  trees  and  the  flowers,  the  rocks  and 
the  streams. 

With  much  patience,  he  taught  Waupello  to  dis- 
tinguish the  voices  of  the  good  and  evil  Manitos  that 
inhabited  the  woods  and  the  hills. 

Waupello  grew  very  fond  of  the  birds  and  the  little 
animals  that  frisked  about  the  paths  or  scampered 
along  the  shore  of  the  rivers.  Birds  and  squirrels 
became  his  ready  companions,  and  chattered  to  him  in 
a  language  he  soon  learned  to  understand.  But  of  all 
his  animal  friends  the  beavers  were  most  interest- 


78  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

ing  and  instructive.  "  Be  you  as  wise  as  a  beaver,"  said 
Minno  to  him,  "and  you  may  know  the  number  of  the 
stars."  And  as  Waupello  grew  older  and  became 
more  familiar  with  the  ways  of  the  beaver,  as  well  as 
the  ways  of  thought,  he  saw  that  his  grandfather  had 
spoken  truth. 

Thus  Waupello,  heeding  Minno's  teachings,  rapidly 
acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  folklore  of  the  forest;  he 
could  soon  call  all  the  birds  and  flowers  and  fishes  by 
name,  and  talked  with  them  as  he  wandered  about  the 
glades  of  the  forest  or  dreamed  on  the  banks  of  the 
running  stream. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  FAIR  CHILD 

Waupello  walked  alone  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
one  hazy  summer  afternoon,  listening  to  the  voice  of 
the  waters,  where  the  hungry  waves  lapped  the  low 
shore  that  swept  in  a  curving  line  to  the  north  of  the 
high  cliffs,  the  home  of  the  Great  Piasau. 

As  Waupello  walked  along  thinking  of  the  many 
things  Minno  had  told  him  concerning  his  people,  he 
wondered  if  the  Bird  of  Evil  were  really  the  cause  of  the 
fatalities  ascribed  to  it.  His  eyes  were  fixed  dreamily 
on  the  waters,  but  he  noted  neither  the  changing  colors 
of  the  Long  River  nor  the  music  of  its  flow.  His 
thoughts  had  flown  back  to  his  great  ancestor,  Hasihta, 
who,  thousands  of  moons  before  Waupello  was  born, 
had  offended  the  Great  Spirit,  and  brought  so  much 
suffering  to  his  people.  He  thought,  too,  of  the  won- 
derful Arrow  in  the  Council  Chamber,  the  Arrow 
Minno  had  told  him  had  never  been  seen  or  touched 
since  it  was  placed  in  its  copper  case  so  long  ago. 
Strange  that  his  fingers  were  to  be  the  first  to  take  the 
sacred  treasure  from  its  long  concealment.  How 
beautiful  it  must  be!  What  sensations  should  he  feel 
when  he  held  it  in  his  hands! 

79 


8o  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

His  chain  of  thought  was  interrupted  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  strange  canoe  in  the  river  a  short  distance 
above  him.  So  suddenly  had  it  swept  into  his  view 
that  Waupello  imagined  for  a  moment  that  he  must  be 
dreaming,  and  running  like  a  deer  to  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  he  gazed  with  wondering  eyes  on  the  queerly 
shaped  boat.  The  canoe  was  not  like  those  made  by 
the  Arctides,  or  by  any  other  of  the  Indian  tribes  with 
whom  Waupello  was  familiar.  It  rode  high  in  the 
water,  and  was  curved  and  peaked  at  bow  and  stern; 
but  there  were  no  paddles  in  sight  and  a  bright-colored 
robe  hung  over  the  stern,  trailing  in  the  water. 

Seated  in  the  canoe  was  a  little  girl,  but  to  Wau- 
pello's  eyes,  accustomed  only  to  the  Red  Children,  the 
little  maid's  dazzling  skin  and  sun-kissed  hair  pro- 
claimed her  some  creature  to  be  adored  and  propi- 
tiated. The  girl,  seeing  the  boy  on  the  shore, 
called  anxiously  and  flung  out  her  arms  to  him 
appealingly. 

"The  canoe  will  be  crushed  in  the  rapids,"  thought 
Waupello,  "  and  the  beautiful  spirit  become  the  prey 
of  the  Piasau."  For  only  a  moment  he  hesitated,  then 
plunging  into  the  river,  the  boy  struck  out  boldly 
toward  the  rapidly  drifting  canoe.  Swifter  and  swifter 
grew  the  current.  The  canoe,  caught  in  the  merciless 
eddies  of  the  falls,  shot  with  a  great  lunge  toward  the 
middle  of  the  stream. 

Waupello  was  as  much  at  home  in  the  water  as  his 


The  Fair  Child  81 

brother,  the  beaver;  none  of  the  other  lads  in  the 
village  could  keep  pace  with  him  in  the  swimming 
races.  And  now  he  exercised  all  his  strength  and  skill 
in  his  endeavors  to  save  the  strange  canoe  and  its 
occupant  from  the  rocks. 

Finding  he  could  not  overtake  the  boat,  Waupello 
dived  beneath  the  surface  and  swam  swiftly  downstream, 
thus  escaping  the  hindrance  of  the  waves  on  the  sur- 
face. For  half  an  arrow's  flight  he  remained  under 
water;  when  he  once  more  appeared  on  the  surface  he 
was  nearly  a  boat's  length  ahead  of  the  canoe.  Wait- 
ing till  the  canoe  drifted  up  to  him,  Waupello  put  his 
shoulder  under  the  side  farthest  from  shore  and  struck 
out  as  best  he  could  for  the  beach. 

Gradually  the  canoe  approached  the  right  bank  of 
the  stream,  and  at  last  the  prow  grated  on  a  bit  of 
shelving  beach  where  the  river  narrowed  to  run  between 
the  steep  cliffs. 

When  Waupello  had  pulled  the  canoe  safely  up  to 
the  sandy  shingle,  he  turned  to  look  at  the  child  with 
the  fair  skin  and  the  beautiful  hair.  Then  he  saw  that 
she  was  not  alone.  Stretched  in  the  bottom  was  a 
man,  whose  hair  and  fair  skin  were  a  counterpart  of 
the  little  girl's.  But  the  man's  face  was  thin  and 
drawn,  as  though  he  had  fasted  for  a  long  time.  In 
their  deepened  sockets  the  eyes  glowed  like  stars  on  a 
frosty  night. 

For  a  moment  Waupello  was  at  a  loss  to  know 


82  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

what  to  do.  He  spoke  to  the  girl,  but  she  only  shook 
her  head,  and  the  tears,  like  dewdrops,  sprang  to  her 
eyes.  But  when  Waupello  saw  the  tears  on  the  cheeks 
of  the  girl,  he  forgot  all  his  fear  of  her,  and  putting 
his  arms  around  her,  murmured  words  of  comfort  in 
the  language  of  the  Arctides,  feeling  that  since  he 
understood  it,  she  would  understand  too. 

Waupello  had  just  decided  to  run  to  the  village  for 
help,  when  he  saw  his  grandfather  walking  under  the 
trees  but  a  short  distance  away. 

He  called  to  Minno,  and  the  old  man  came  quickly 
toward  the  river.  Waupello  rushed  half-way  to  meet 
him,  and  told  him  hurriedly  of  the  strange  creatures 
he  had  saved  from  being  carried  into  the  heart  of  the 
rapids. 

When  Minno  had  looked  a  moment  upon  the  man 
in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  he  said: 

"  Run  to  the  village,  Waupello,  and  tell  some  of 
the  young  men  to  come  and  assist  in  carrying  the 
stranger.  The  fever  of  the  bad  Manitos  sits  in  his 
eyes,  and  he  may  not  walk.  These  people  have  a  strange 
look.  Perhaps  they  come  from  the  good  Manitos  with 
a  message  for  the  Arctides." 

Waupello  sprang  away  like  a  deer,  scarcely  touch- 
ing the  earth  with  his  nimble  feet;  and  while  the  little 
girl's  eyes  still  sought  him  in  the  open,  he  was  lost  in 
the  trees  of  the  forest. 

When  Waupello  was  gone,  Minno  approached  the 


The  Fair  Child  83 

canoe  and  addressed  the  stranger  in  the  language  of 
the  Arctides. 

"Whence  comes  the  man  of  the  fair  skin,  and  why 
did  he  stay  his  hands  from  the  paddles  whilst  the  canoe 
was  rushing  upon  the  sharp  rocks  of  the  rapids?" 
questioned  Minno. 

The  stranger  made  no  reply  to  the  prophet's  ques- 
tion, but  gazed  wildly  about,  moaning  in  pain,  trying 
vainly  to  raise  his  head  from  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

The  heart  of  the  child,  which  had  at  first  shrunk  in 
fear  at  the  approach  of  the  tall  Indian,  felt  the  kindly 
pity  in  his  tones,  and  she  held  out  her  little  white 
hands  to  him. 

"  Waubunannung,  Star  of  the  Morning!"  exclaimed 
the  prophet. 

Never  before  had  he  seen  so  fair  a  vision,  not  even 
in  his  dreams.  To  him  she  seemed  like  the  star  come 
out  of  the  eastern  sky,  and  his  lips  formed  the  name 
naturally  as  he  looked  upon  her. 

"  Waubunannung,  Minno  gives  you  welcome  to  the 
country  of  Arctides,"  said  the  prophet,  in  a  whisper, 
as  he  lifted  her  from  the  boat  to  the  beach. 

Quickly  Waupello  returned  with  the  young  braves  as 
Minno  had  requested.  They  were  greatly  excited  upon 
seeing  the  strangers,  with  their  red-gold  hair  and  fair 
faces,  and  the  queer-looking  craft  which  had  brought 
them  so  mysteriously  to  the  shores  of  the  Arctides 
village. 


84  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

At  a  word  from  Minno,  however,  the  four  men, 
who  had  been  walking  slowly  round  and  round  the 
canoe,  lifted  it  carefully  to  their  shoulders  and  bore  it 
away  toward  the  village.  The  man  in  the  canoe 
moaned  continually  and  rolled  his  head  from  side  to 
side  as  if  in  great  pain. 

Minno  walked  before  them,  carrying  the  fair 
child  upon  his  broad  breast  and  murmuring  words  of 
comfort,  which,  though  she  did  not  understand  them, 
carried  solace  to  the  poor  trembling  little  heart,  and 
the  fair  maid  dropped  her  weary  head  on  Minno's 
shoulder,  and  put  her  round  young  arms  trustingly 
around  his  bronze  throat. 

Beside  them  ran  Waupello,  his  soft  black  eyes  fixed 
with  wonder  and  admiration  upon  the  fair  face  of  the 
little  girl.  In  the  sun  her  hair  glinted  like  spun  cop- 
per, and  Waupello  longed  that  he  might  be  the  wind 
that  made  so  free  with  her  tresses,  or  the  shafts  of  light 
that,  falling  between  the  trees  of  the  forest,  played 
about  her  lips  and  eyes. 

"How  beautiful  she  is!  "  thought  Waupello.  "Per- 
haps this  is  one  of  the  good  Manitos  Minno  has  told 
me  so  much  about.  But  the  good  spirits  come  in 
dreams  to  speak  to  us,  and  Waupello  does  not  dream. 
His  feet  are  on  the  earth,  and  he  runs  before  the  canoe 
in  which  the  pale  stranger  lies.  When  we  are  come  to 
the  village  I  will  speak  to  the  little  sister,  telling  her 
all  my  tales,  showing  her  my  prettiest  arrows.  My 


The  Fair  Child  85 

necklace  of  otter-teeth  will  I  put  on  her  shoulders; 
then,  mayhap,  she  will  tell  me  why  her  skin  is  like  the 
flower  of  the  water  lily,  and  her  wonderful  hair  like 
the  forest  leaves  when  the  frost  has  touched  them." 

The  winding  path  the  little  party  were  following 
led  by  the  Sacred  Spring,  and  here  Minno  paused 
for  a  moment.  Setting  the  little  girl  upon  her  feet,  he 
took  from  his  deerskin  pouch  his  drinking-cup  of  woven 
wire-grass.  Dipping  it  into  the  cool  waters,  he  pressed 
the  brimming  cup  to  the  parched,  fever-cracked  lips  of 
the  man  in  the  canoe. 

The  stranger  drank  greedily,  muttering  words  that 
fell  meaninglessly  upon  the  ears  of  the  Arctides. 

Waupello  meanwhile  had  snatched  two  leaves  from 
an  oak  tree  that  bent  above  the  Spring,  and  with  a  motion 
so  dexterous  that  the  eye  could  scarcely  follow  his 
movements,  he  formed  a  cup,  and  filling  it  with  water, 
held  it  to  the  girl's  lips.  The  child  drank  the  cool, 
sparkling  liquid,  and  then  her  eyes  lingered  lovingly 
on  the  dainty  toy.  Little  smiles  chased  themselves 
from  her  lips  to  her  eyes,  and  she  shyly  offered  to 
return  the  cup;  but  Waupello,  seeing  she  was  pleased 
with  what  he  had  made,  shook  his  head  and  put  the 
cup  back  into  her  hands.  The  men  took  up  the  canoe 
again  and  resumed  their  way  to  the  village,  but  the 
little  girl  was  no  longer  carried  in  Minno's  arms;  hand 
in  hand  like  friendly  playmates,  Waupello  and  the 
blue-eyed  child  ran  beside  the  prophet. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  GREAT  MYSTERY 

Minno  and  his  party  had  now  reached  the  village, 
and  the  canoe-bearers,  at  a  gesture  from  the  prophet, 
put  down  their  burden  under  the  guardian  pine  that 
stood  before  the  Council  Chamber.  Instantly  they  be- 
came the  center  of  a  group  of  curious  onlookers,  who 
plied  Minno  and  Waupello  with  questions,  and  pointed 
excitedly  at  the  strange  man,  the  equally  strange  canoe, 
and  the  beautiful  child,  who,  frightened  at  so  many 
dark  faces,  clung  to  the  hand  of  Waupello. 

Minno,  choosing  several  of  the  fleetest  runners 
from  the  group  about,  gave  into  the  hands  of  each 
a  painted  quill  and  bade  them  go  quickly  to  sum- 
mon the  Metas  of  the  different  villages.  For  the 
unexpected  arrival  of  these  pale  faces  was  of  great 
moment  to  the  Arctides,  and  demanded  prompt  and 
wise  action. 

Wahwun,  the  medicine-man,  came  hurrying  from 
his  lodge,  and  pushing  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
looked  long  upon  the  man  stretched  in  the  bottom  of 
the  canoe. 

"He  is  not  of  the  nations  of  the  Red  Men!"   de- 


The  Great  Mystery  87 


clared  the  Meta,  looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of 
Minno.  "Would  the  father  of  the  Arctides  have  him 
live?" 

"Minno  would  know  more  of  this  strange  being. 
His  brain  is  now  melting  with  the  fever.  Already 
the  Metas  have  been  summoned  to  come  together  in 
Council,  that  we  may  decide  what  is  best  to  be  done. 
Meanwhile  let  Shangadaya  watch  over  the  stranger 
until  the  Council  is  assembled,"  said  Minno. 

The  Old  One  came  immediately,  and  began  to 
make  the  sick  man  as  comfortable  as  possible,  while 
Waupello  brought  to  the  little  girl  corn  cakes  and 
berries  and  dainty  bits  of  meat  and  bade  her  eat. 

Pakoble  too  came  from  her  lodge  and  sat  beside 
the  children,  occasionally  touching  gently  the  bright 
hair,  and  gazing  with  tender  mother  eyes  upon  the 
pretty  child. 

"  The  little  white  sister  is  very  pretty,"  said  Wau- 
pello, "but  she  looks  sad;  she  shall  smile."  And  run- 
ning to  his  lodge  he  brought  forth  the  loveliest  shells 
and  the  daintiest  wampum  and  the  smallest  baskets  in 
his  collection  and  flung  them  at  the  feet  of  the  little 
girl. 

"The  little  white  sister  is  like  a  day  of  the  Spring 
Moon,"  said  the  mother,  lightly  brushing  the  tears 
from  the  pale  cheeks.  "  Now  it  rains,  but  presently 
the  sun  will  shine  again.  Waupello  must  be  patient." 

Pakoble's  gentle  ways  and  quiet  airs  soon  won  the 


88  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

confidence  of  Morning  Star,  as  Minno  had  called  her, 
and  she  forgot  for  the  moment  her  recent  griefs  and 
smiled  and  tried  to  make  these  new  friends  understand 
her.  When  Waupello  saw  her  happy  again,  his  own 
face  became  radiant,  and  telling  his  mother  that  he 
was  going  to  show  the  girl  his  tepee,  he  took  his  new 
playmate  to  his  own  beautiful  lodge. 

To  the  white  child  this  was  the  most  wonderful 
playhouse  in  the  whole  wide  world.  Here  were  lovely 
soft  skins  and  arrows  and  bows  without  number,  gay 
pots  and  bowls  and  feathers  of  marvelous  birds,  end- 
less strings  of  wampum,  and  glittering  stones,  and 
everything  that  the  children  of  the  forest  most  love. 
The  little  maid  caught  sight  of  a  tiny  bow  and  arrow, 
and  instantly  Waupello  put  it  into  her  hands.  Then 
he  tried  to  show  her  how  to  shoot  it,  but  she  quite  sur- 
prised him  by  her  knowledge  of  the  implement.  She 
shot  two  or  three  arrows,  and  laughed  merrily  when 
she  saw  Waupello  running  to  return  them.  Then 
Waupello  gave  her  his  spear,  but  she  did  not  under- 
stand the  use  of  this  instrument,  and  the  boy  showed 
her  every  trick  he  knew  in  the  handling  of  it. 

Meanwhile  Shangadaya,  sitting  beside  the  boat, 
spread  a  shade  of  cool  boughs  above  the  sick  man's  face, 
and  gave  him  to  drink  of  a  bitter  herb  tea  which  she 
had  brewed. 

The  Metas  had  quickly  assembled  in  response  to 
the  message  of  the  painted  auills,  and  it  was  decided 


The  Great  Mystery  89 

that  Wahwun  should  endeavor  through  the  exercise  of 
his  power  to  discover  who  the  strangers  were  and 
whence  they  came. 

The  great  medicine-man  was  soon  ready  for  the 
ordeal,  and  stripped  of  every  garment  save  his  breech- 
cloth,  that  he  wore  folded  tightly  about  his  loins,  he 
threw  himself  on  an  immense  buffalo-robe  stretched  on 
the  floor  of  the  medicine  lodge. 

First  he  laid  hold  of  one  side  of  the  skin,  and  folded 
it  over  him;  then  he  took  hold  of  the  other  side,  fold- 
ing it  in  like  manner  about  his  body,  leaving  only  his 
head  uncovered. 

Wahwun  then  called  two  of  the  young  braves  to 
take  a  long  cord  of  braided  deer-thongs  that  lay  beside 
him  on  the  floor  of  the  Council  Chamber,  and  to  wind 
it  tightly  about  his  body  so  that  he  was  completely 
swathed  within  the  buffalo-skin.  Being  thus  bound, 
the  Meta  was  taken  by  the  feet  and  head  and  lifted 
into  a  coffin-shaped  inclosure  made  by  driving  sticks 
into  the  ground.  He  had  not  lain  long  in  this  position 
before  he  began  to  mutter,  and  the  snake  medicine-bag 
placed  at  his  head  to  rattle  and  dance  about.  Louder, 
ever  louder,  grew  the  mutterings.  But  now  his  words 
were  strange  to  the  ears  of  the  listeners.  He  spoke 
no  longer  the  language  of  the  Arctides,  nor  any  of  the 
Indian  dialects,  but  a  new  and  foreign  tongue.  Hav- 
ing for  some  time  continued  in  this  manner,  he  raised 
his  voice  to  its  highest  pitch,  sometimes  apparently 


90  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

raving  and  sometimes  muttering  what  seemed  like 
prayers,  till  at  last  he  became  so  agitated  that  he  fairly 
foamed  at  the  mouth. 

He  remained  in  this  state  nearly  an  hour,  with  the 
little  group  of  Metas  gathered  around  him,  carefully 
noting  his  every  motion. 

Suddenly  Wahwun  sprang  to  his  feet,  shaking  off 
his  covering  as  if  the  bands  with  which  he  had  been 
bound  were  burned  asunder.  Then  in  a  low,  firm  voice 
he  addressed  the  Metas  in  his  own  tongue. 

"  My  brothers,"  said  Wahwun,  "  the  Great  Manito 
has  spoken  to  his  servant.  He  has  not  indeed  told 
him  the  names  of  those  who  have  so  suddenly  come 
amongst  us,  but  he  has  shown  him  the  land  from  which 
they  came,  where  there  are  great  tribes  of  their 
people. 

"  Wahwun  saw  a  beautiful  country,  where  people 
like  him  of  the  strange  canoe  are  many  as  the  trees  of 
the  forest.  He  saw  this  one  go  home  to  his  lodge,  which 
was  like  the  cliff  yonder.  And  there  he  met  another 
Pale  Face,  and  they  were  both  very  wroth,  and  this  one 
struck  his  brother  with  a  long,  thin  knife;  then  when  his 
brother  lay  dead  and  all  bleeding  at  his  feet,  the 
stranger  took  his  child  and  ran  out  of  the  great  wigwam 
and  away  to  the  wide  blue  water,  where  was  a  canoe 
so  large  that  the  whole  tribe  of  Arctides  might  sit  in 
it.  The  canoe  had  white  wings  like  a  bird,  and 
brought  the  man  and  the  little  girl  far  away  from  the 


The  Great  Mystery  91 

lodge  where  the  bleeding  man  and  a  lamenting  woman 
were  left  behind.  At  last  the  canoe  in  which  the 
stranger  and  his  child  and  many  other  people  rode 
touched  on  another  shore,  which  is  like  the  shore  the 
stranger  left,  but  where  no  man  knew  that  the  stranger 
had  slain  his  brother.  And  when  they  had  rested  and 
eaten,  the  stranger  took  from  a  man  like  himself  the 
canoe  you  now  see.  And  he  gave  to  the  man  from 
whom  he  took  the  canoe  some  bits  of  bright  metal, 
at  which  the  man  who  received  them  greatly  rejoiced. 

"Then  the  stranger  put  into  the  canoe  the  fair 
child  whom  Minno  has  called  Morning  Star,  and  he 
also  sat  in  the  canoe,  and  came  over  a  long  blue  water 
to  the  cold  lake  that  lies  to  the  north. 

"  When  they  had  journeyed  for  two  moons,  always 
coming  toward  the  west,  the  man  lifted  the  canoe  from 
the  waters  of  the  lake  and  brought  it  across  the  earth 
to  the  Long  River,  and  so  was  carried  to  the  land  of 
the  Arctides,  where  the  eyes  of  Waupello  beheld 
them. 

"  In  all  the  long  journey  the  bad  Manitos  never  left 
the  man  who  had  slain  his  white  brother.  They  got 
into  his  brain  and  threw  him  upon  his  back,  so  that  he 
might  no  longer  wield  the  paddle. 

"  This  is  what  Wahwun  has  seen  with  the  eyes  the 
Great  Manito  gave  him.  He  has  spoken." 

The  Metas  listened  intently  to  the  revelations  of 
Wahwun,  and  immediately  going  to  the  Council  Cham- 


92  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

her,  seated  themselves  to  smoke  the  Calumet  and 
deliberate  on  what  the  ultimate  destiny  of  the  stranger 
should  be. 

In  a  little  while  Minno  arose  and  spoke: 

"The  Great  Spirit  has  sent  the  fair-faced  stranger 
to  the  Arctides.  They  must  give  him  welcome.  The 
lodge  of  Minno  is  ready  to  receive  him.  Let  him  be 
carried  thither.  You,  who  have  power  to  drive  away 
bad  spirits  from  his  heart  and  the  fever  from  his  veins, 
what  say  you?" 

"  Let  it  be  even  as  Minno  has  spoken — it  is  a  wise 
thought,"  said  Wahwun.  The  Metas  signified  their 
assent. 

"And  the  child,"  Minno  continued;  "may  she  not  rest 
in  the  lodge  of  Pakoble,  who  will  be  to  her  as  a 
mother?" 

Before  the  medicine-men  could  make  a  sign  of 
approval,  there  came  stealing  into  the  Council  Cham- 
ber a  sound  so  soft,  so  mellow,  so  melodious  that  every 
man  of  the  assembly  bowed  his  head,  thinking  it  a 
voice  from  the  spirit  world.  Plaintively  sweet,  the 
music  rose  and  fell  on  the  fragrant  summer  air. 

The  sound  was  so  new  and  strange  that  it  was  sev- 
eral minutes  before  even  Minno,  whose  great  soul  had 
never  known  fear,  strode  from  the  Council  Chamber 
to  seek  the  cause  of  it. 

The  picture  Minno  saw  as  he  came  from  the  Coun- 
cil Chamber  into  the  sunlight  was  so  beautiful  and 


The  Great  Mystery  93 

touching  that  the  old  prophet  stood  gazing  upon  it  in 
silent  wonder. 

Upright  in  the  high-peaked  canoe  sat  the  fair- 
haired  stranger,  holding  to  his  lips  a  slender  tube  of 
dark  wood,  which  discoursed  music  such  as  Minno  had 
never  heard.  The  stranger's  long,  waving  hair  fell  in 
a  sunny  mass  over  his  shoulders;  two  bright-red  spots 
burned  like  tiny  suns  on  his  white  cheeks,  and  his  half- 
closed  eyes  seemed  to  look  far  away  into  another 
world. 

Near  him  stood  Waupello  and  the  fair  child,  their 
young  faces  filled  with  the  inexpressible  awe  born 
of  the  Great  Mystery. 

Slower  and  sweeter  came  the  liquid  notes;  farther 
and  farther  the  shadowy  eyes  looked  into  the  soft 
distance,  until,  with  a  little  fluttering  wave  of  sound,  the 
instrument  fell  from  the  nerveless  fingers,  the  lids 
dropped  over  the  sad  blue  eyes,  and  the  stranger  from 
an  unknown  country  was  no  longer  a  stranger.  He  had 
found  the  solution  of  all  Mystery  in  the  brotherhood 
of  Death. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  NEW  VOICE  IN  THE  WOODS 

The  Pale  Face  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  canoe  that 
had  brought  him  far  from  the  passions  and  griefs  of  the 
world  to  fall  asleep  upon  the  bosom  of  Nature.  With 
the  belief  of  the  Red  Men  that  the  departed  spirits  in  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds  would  find  pleasure  in  follow- 
ing the  pursuits  of  earth,  Minno  was  about  to  place  the 
flute  under  the  cold  hand  of  the  stranger.  But  the  fair 
child,  with  the  intuition  of  a  softer  civilization,  took  the 
instrument  from  him  and  quietly  gave  it  to  Waupello. 

The  boy's  fingers  closed  eagerly  over  the  ebony 
tube,  and  his  eyes  spoke  the  gratitude  his  lips  could 
not  utter. 

Nothing  he  had  ever  heard  or  seen  had  made  so 
deep  an  impression  on  Waupello  as  the  tender  melody 
breathed  into  the  slender  bit  of  polished  wood  by  the 
dying  man.  His  sensitive  soul  still  vibrated  with  the 
melancholy  harmony,  and  he  was  filled  with  longing  to 
speak  his  thoughts  in  the  same  liquid  measure. 

Thus  the  flute  became  to  him  a  new  voice,  with 
which  he  hoped  some  day  to  utter  thoughts  that  now 
found  no  expression. 

94 


A  New  Voice  in  the  Woods          95 

Day  after  day  Waupello  stole  into  the  forest, 
where  even  the  sound  of  the  ceremonial  drum  in  the 
Council  Chamber  or  the  wild  song  of  the  hunters  could 
not  reach  him,  and  hidden  among  the  leafy  shadows, 
he  breathed  softly  into  the  precious  instrument,  hoping 
to  wake  again  the  melody  that  still  echoed  in  his  soul. 

For  a  long  time  only  broken,  fragmentary  sounds 
came,  like  far-away  hints  of  the  tender  song.  The 
small  bright  keys  that  had  answered  so  readily  to  the 
lightest  touch  of  the  stranger's  white  fingers  refused 
the  coaxing  caresses  of  Waupello's  slender  brown  ones, 
and  he  was  often  tempted  to  give  up  in  despair.  Then  he 
bethought  him  to  blow  into  the  instrument  a  message 
to  the  winds  that  moaned  and  sighed  or  laughed  and 
sang  about  him.  And  when  they  seemed  to  listen  and 
understand,  calling  back  to  him  pretty  replies  to  the 
message  he  uttered,  his  heart  gave  a  great  throb  of 
joy,  and  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground  and  thanked 
the  Great  Spirit  for  the  gift  of  the  New  Voice. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Waupello  through  the 
flute  could  converse  with  all  things  in  nature  in  their 
own  language,  and  the  songs  in  his  heart  multiplied 
daily,  and  a  wondrous  love  for  everything  the  Great 
Spirit  had  created  took  possession  of  the  boy. 

One  day  in  early  Autumn,  when  the  hazy  smoke  of 
the  Peace  Pipe  was  over  all  the  hills  and  the  forest  was 
hushed  with  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  its  summer  glories, 
Waupello  took  his  mother  to  his  favorite  retreat  on  a 


96  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

high  bluff  overlooking  the  river,  and  for  the  first  time 
played  for  her  the  soft  minor  hymns  he  had  learned 
from  the  winds  and  streams.  Pakoble  listened,  sur- 
prised and  delighted;  but  as  the  boy  went  on,  breathing 
into  the  instrument  softer  and  more  melodious  strains, 
the  heart  of  the  mother  trembled  with  exquisite  pain, 
and  her  eyes  filled  with  sympathetic  tears,  prompted 
by  a  feeling  she  had  never  before  known. 

"  Where  did  the  son  of  Strongheart  learn  all  these 
pretty  melodies?"  said  Pakoble,  when  the  boy  finally 
laid  the  flute  aside  and  turned  to  meet  her  approving 
gaze. 

"  From  the  winds  of  the  sky,  dearest  mother;  they 
sing  to  me  of  many  things:  of  the  bright  stars  they 
have  visited;  of  far-away  hills  and  valleys  where  flowers 
bloom  all  the  year  round  and  the  birds  never  flee  at 
the  approach  of  the  frost  and  the  snow;  from  the 
river,  dear  mother,  that  is  singing  gladly  on  its  way  to 
the  Land  of  the  Sun,  where  the  Red  Children  are  never 
cold,  but  may  run  and  play  always  under  trees  that 
reach  down  to  them  their  sweet  juicy  fruits — where  the 
feet  of  the  people  walk  always  on  carpets  of  flowers." 

"Where  is  this  land,  my  son?" 

"That  has  not  been  told  to  Waupello.  He  does 
not  yet  understand  all  the  winds  and  the  waters  say  to 
him,  and  the  voice  of  the  pretty  instrument  is  not 
always  clear  to  speak  what  Waupello  would  know.  But 
some  day,  dear  mother  of  my  heart,  when  Waupello 


A  New  Voice  in  the  Woods  97 

has  learned  to  know  all  the  voices  of  the  forest  and 
the  wide  prairie,  and  to  breathe  into  the  grateful  reed 
what  as  yet  are  but  shadowy  dreams,  he  will  be  able  to 
tell  you. 

"Sometimes,"  continued  the  boy,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  "when  the  voice  of  the  flute  is  clear,  and  the 
South  Wind  is  heavy  with  fragrance,  Waupello  hears 
faintly  a  voice  that  bids  him  rejoice  for  his  people; 
that  one  day  he  may  lead  them  away  to  the  land  of 
perpetual  Summer." 

The  mother  sat  silent  looking  wistfully  down  the 
winding  vista  formed  by  the  Long  River. 

Waupello  took  up  the  flute  again,  and  looking  at  it 
intently  for  some  time,  said: 

"  And  sometimes,  mother,  the  flute  seems  to  tell  me 
of  another  land  far  across  the  big  blue  water.  The 
white  sister  we  have  called  Singing  Bird,  because  she 
is  so  happy,  and  has  a  voice  like  the  bobolink,  has  told 
me  of  it.  There  are  great  tepees,  with  shining  walls, 
and  woven  robes  of  many  colors,  thick  and  soft,  cover- 
ing the  floor.  And  all  the  people  have  fair  skins  like 
the  white  sister,  and  beautiful  cloths  and  laces  for 
robes,  like  those  of  her  father." 

"Singing  Bird  is  one  of  the  Arctides  now,"  said 
Pakoble,  and  should  forget  the  wicked  people  who 
made  her  father  unhappy.  With  my  own  hands  I  have 
made  her  robes  of  the  softest  skins,  and  the  hunters, 
who  are  fond  of  her,  bring  her  the  choicest  feathers 


98  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

from  the  forest  and  the  prettiest  shells  from  the  beach. 
She  loves  the  Children  of  the  Sun,  too,  and  will  be 
happier  if  Waupello  does  not  make  her  think  of  other 
things." 

"  It  is  not  Waupello,  dear  mother;  it  is  the  flute. 
If  it  talks  to  Singing  Bird  of  those  things,  what  can 
Waupello  do?" 

Pakoble  found  no  answer  ready  to  her  son's  question. 
The  mother  was  deeply  moved  by  what  the  afternoon 
had  shown  of  her  son's  nature,  and  she  resolved  to 
repeat  the  conversation  to  Minno  as  soon  as  she 
returned  to  the  village. 

The  red  sun  was  far  down  toward  the  prairie 
country  as  they  went  slowly  homeward  under  the  whis- 
pering boughs.  There  were  tints  of  purple  and  yellow 
in  the  Indian  Summer  haze,  and  the  soft  sky  seemed 
sinking  gently  down  to  caress  the  fading  leaves. 

As  Waupello  walked  along,  he  breathed  into  the 
flute  the  thoughts  inspired  by  the  tender  glances  of 
his  mother,  and  the  rhythmical  flow  of  the  notes  awoke 
a  responsive  call  from  the  distant  whip-poor-wills. 

And  so,  with  hearts  full  of  the  tender  glory  of  the 
autumn,  the  two  came  back  to  the  village. 


CHAPTER  XV 

TIOMA,  THE  STORY-TELLER 

"  Singing  Bird!  Singing  Bird!  Come  to  the  forest. 
The  wind  is  soft  in  the  treetops,  and  Waupello  waits 
for  you." 

"  Has  Waupello  the  heart  of  a  quail,  that  he  dare 
not  go  alone?  Singing  Bird  has  been  with  the  robins 
and  squirrels  since  the  torches  were  put  out  in  the 
sky." 

The  merry  taunt  came  from  the  extreme  point 
of  a  cliff  at  a  little  distance  to  the  east  overlooking  the 
village.  Across  the  Long  River  lay  the  prairie  country, 
stretching  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  in  billowy 
undulations. 

Waupello,  half-way  up  the  slope,  ran  forward  until 
through  an  opening  in  the  trees  he  could  see  the  sum- 
mit of  the  cliff.  Upon  a  projecting  rock  far  out  upon 
the  bluff,  stood  Singing  Bird,  outlined  against  the 
sky;  her  red-brown  hair  blown  free,  her  bare  arms 
shining  like  ivory  in  the  sun,  the  girl  seemed  to  the 
eyes  of  the  Indian  boy  a  good  Manito  come  to  speak 
to  him. 

"  The  Singing  Bird  has  wings  to  mount  up  to  the 

99 


ioo  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

sky,"  called  the  boy,  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  inspired  by 
a  fear  for  the  fair  child's  safety. 

"  The  mole  has  weak  eyes  and  hides  from  the  sun 
in  the  earth,"  called  back  the  girl,  gayly.  "  Waupello 
should  bind  an  arrow-point  upon  his  head  that  he  may 
burrow  with  his  brother." 

"Waupello  has  no  fear  for  himself,"  said  the  boy, 
in  a  low  tone,  his  bronze  skin  flushing  under  the  banter. 

"Then  why  does  he  stay  so  long  in  the  village, 
when  the  winds  are  fresh  and  cool  on  the  hilltops? 
Singing  Bird  has  been  out  since  first  the  bluejay  began 
scolding  her  husband,  an  hour  ago." 

"  Waupello  would  have  followed  the  feet  of  Sing- 
ing Bird  through  the  wood,  but  her  steps  are  so  light 
they  leave  no  record  on  the  leaves." 

The  courtly  speech  of  the  Indian  boy  was  pleasing 
to  the  fair  child.  It  sounded  like  an  echo  of  something 
she  had  heard  in  another  life,  but  which  she  could 
never  recall.  She  gazed  a  moment  into  the  clear  and 
honest  eyes  of  the  boy,  and  then  turning  suddenly, 
sprang  lightly  over  the  face  of  the  rock  to  a  projection 
below,  and  began  a  descent  down  the  almost  perpen- 
dicular face  of  the  cliff. 

Unheeding  the  boy's  warning  call,  she  continued  on 
her  way  until  she  had  covered  a  third  of  the  distance 
to  the  beach  below.  Then  halting  breathless,  she 
looked  up  to  where  the  boy  stood,  like  a  bronze  statue, 
high  above  her. 


Tioma,  the  Story-Teller  101 

"  Does  the  son  of  Strongheart  fear  to  follow  the 
Singing  Bird?"  she  called,  tossing  her  hair  in  the  sun. 

"  The  son  of  Strongheart  knows  not  the  word  fear," 
answered  Waupello,  with  characteristic  pride.  "  But 
the  rocks  are  not  firm,  and  a  foot  heavier  than  that  of 
Singing  Bird  might  send  an  avalanche  down  upon  her. 
When  she  has  reached  the  shore  it  will  be  time  to 
follow." 

With  another  toss  of  her  pretty  head,  the  girl  put 
out  one  daintily  moccasined  foot  toward  the  rock  below, 
but  drew  it  back  suddenly,  and  shrank  closely  against 
the  cliff,  white  and  trembling,  her  eyes  staring  straight 
before  her. 

Coiled  on  the  stones  a  few  feet  distant  was  an 
enormous  yellow  rattlesnake.  Its  ugly  flat  head  was 
lifted  and  waved  ominously  from  side  to  side.  The 
bead-like  eyes  glittered  in  the  sun,  and  the  red-forked 
tongue  played  rapidly  out  and  in  between  its  slightly 
parted  jaws.  But  more  terrifying  than  all  came  the 
sharp,  piercing  rattle  that  the  girl  well  knew  preceded 
the  poisonous  blow. 

With  eyes  riveted  on  the  snake,  Singing  Bird  stood 
motionless.  There  was  no  escape  from  the  niche  in 
which  she  stood.  And  even  had  she  the  strength  to 
fly  she  knew  the  slightest  movement  on  her  part  meant 
an  instant  attack  from  the  serpent. 

But  just  as  the  reptile  was  drawing  in  its  head  for 
the  spring  the  twang  of  a  bowstring  sounded,  a  feathery 


102  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

flash  of  light  shot  down  the  face  of  the  cliff,  and  the 
huge  snake,  with  an  arrow  through  his  throat,  writhed 
and  twisted  itself  from  the  rock  and  rolled  to  the 
beach  below. 

A  moment  later  Singing  Bird  was  being  borne  up 
the  cliff  in  the  sinewy  arms  of  Waupello. 

"  Don't  cry,  little  White  Sister,"  said  the  boy,  as  he 
placed  her  once  more  on  the  greensward.  "  What  is  an 
arrow  more  or  less?  The  old  men  are  pleased  with 
their  making,  and  the  quiver  of  Waupello  is  always 
full.  Come,  I  will  play  for  you  the  songs  you  love 
best,  and  we  will  run  away  to  the  other  side  of  the 
wood,  so  that  we  may  forget." 

The  boy  took  his  flute  from  the  pocket  his  mother 
had  made  in  his  mantle,  that  he  might  have  the  instru- 
ment always  with  him,  and  walking  slowly  along  with 
Singing  Bird,  played  the  merriest  airs  he  knew. 

The  squirrels  ran  and  chattered  in  the  branches 
overhead  and  dropped  down  nuts  as  a  friendly  offering 
to  the  children.  The  jays  swung  in  curving  blue  lines 
across  the  spaces;  chipmunks  flashed  their  white  stripes 
in  the  sun  as  they  ran  along  the  fallen  logs  or  tum- 
bled over  one  another  among  the  brambles,  and  Sing- 
ing Bird  forgot  her  disagreeable  adventure  and  joined 
in  a  merry  romp  with  her  playfellows  of  the  wood. 

By  a  sunlit  pool  near  the  everglades  the  children 
came  upon  Tioma,  painting  the  characters  of  a  new 
story  on  his  broad  chest. 


JUST  AS  THE  REPTILE  WAS  DRAWING  IX  ITS  HEAD  FOR 
THE  SPRING,  THE  TWANG  OF  A  BOWSTRING  SOUNDED,  AND 
THE  HUGE  SNAKE,  WITH  AN  ARROW  THROUGH  HIS  THROAT- 
WRITHED  AND  TWISTED  ITSELF  FROM  THE  ROCK. 


Tioma,  the  Story-Teller  103 

"  Is  there  not  enough  of  piping  and  squeaking  among 
the  wild  creatures  that  our  young  men  should  go  about 
blowing  into  whistles?"  roared  the  Big  Voice,  halting  in 
his  work  of  decoration  to  glower  good  humoredly  upon 
the  intruders. 

"  If  I  were  as  handsome  as  Tioma  I  might  find 
more  pleasure  in  looking  at  my  reflection  in  the  pool," 
laughed  Waupello,  dropping  into  the  dialect  of  the 
playground  with  the  village  familiar. 

"  Tioma  shall  paint  himself  when  he  pleases,"  cried 
Singing  Bird,  "  and  while  we  are  resting  he  will  tell  us 
the  tale  that  goes  with  the  pictures." 

Morning  Star  seated  herself  on  the  grasses,  and 
Tioma,  ever  ready  to  please  the  White  Sister,  who  was 
an  appreciative  auditor,  seated  himself  on  a  grassy 
bank,  and  prepared  to  tell  them  the  story  of  the  man 
who  came  from  a  shell. 

'There  was  once  a  snail  living  on  the  banks  of  the 
river,  where  he  found  plenty  of  food,  and  wanted  noth- 
ing," began  the  Big  Voice.  "But  at  length  the  waters 
began  to  rise  and  overflow  the  banks,  and  although  the 
little  animal  clung  to  a  log,  the  flood  carried  them 
both  away,  and  for  many  moons  the  snail  floated  about, 
not  knowing  where  he  was  going.  When  the  water  fell, 
the  poor  snail  was  left  in  the  mud  and  slime  on  shore. 
The  heat  of  the  sun  came  out  so  strong  that  he  was 
soon  fixed  in  the  slime  and  could  not  stir.  He  could 
no  longer  get  nourishment.  He  became  oppressed 


jo4  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

with  heat  and  drought.  He  resigned  himself  to  his 
fate,  and  prepared  to  die.  But  all  at  once  he  felt  a 
renewed  vigor.  His  shell  burst  open,  and  he  began  to 
rise.  His  head  gradually  rose  above  the  ground;  he 
felt  his  lower  extremities  assuming  the  character  of 
feet  and  legs.  Arms  extended  from  his  sides.  He 
felt  their  extremities  divide  into  fingers.  In  fine,  he 
rose  under  the  influence  of  one  day's  sun  into  a  tall 
and  noble  man.  For  a  while  he  remained  in  a  dull 
and  stupid  state.  He  had  but  little  activity,  and  no 
clear  thoughts.  These  all  came  by  degrees,  and  when 
his  recollection  returned,  he  resolved  to  travel  back  to 
his  native  land. 

"  But  he  was  naked  and  ignorant.  The  first  want 
he  felt  was  hunger.  He  saw  beasts  and  birds  as  he 
walked  along,  but  he  knew  not  how  to  kill  them. 
He  wished  himself  again  a  snail,  for  he  knew  how 
in  that  form  to  get  his  food.  At  length  he  became 
so  weak,  by  walking  and  fasting,  that  he  laid  him- 
self down  on  a  grassy  bank  to  die.  He  had  not  lain 
there  long,  when  he  heard  a  voice  calling  him  by  name. 
'Wasbashas! '  exclaimed  the  voice.  He  looked  up, 
and  beheld  the  Great  Spirit  sitting  on  a  white  moose. 
His  eyes  glistened  like  stars.  The  hair  of  his  head 
shone  like  the  sun.  The  man  could  not  bear  to  look 
upon  the  apparition  and  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 
Again  the  voice  spoke  to  him  in  a  mild  tone.  '  Wasbas- 
has! Why  do  you  look  terrified?'  '  I  tremble/  he  replied, 


Tioma,  the  Story-Teller  105 

'because  I  stand  before  him  who  raised  me  from 
the  ground.  I  am  faint  and  hungry  —  I  have  eaten 
nothing  since  the  floods  left  me  upon  the  shore, 
a  little  shell.' 

"The  Great  Spirit  here  lifted  up  his  hands,  and 
displaying  a  bow  and  arrows,  told  him  to  look  at 
him.  At  a  distance  sat  a  bird  on  a  tree.  He  put 
an  arrow  to  the  string,  and  pulling  it  with  force, 
brought  down  the  beautiful  object.  At  this  moment 
a  deer  came  in  sight.  He  placed  another  arrow 
to  the  string  and  pierced  the  animal  through.  4  These,' 
said  he,  'are  your  food,  and  these  are  your  arms,' 
handing  him  the  bow  and  arrows.  He  then  instructed 
the  man  how  to  remove  the  skin  of  the  deer,  and 
prepare  it  for  a  garment.  'You  are  naked,'  said 
he,  '  and  must  be  clothed.  It  is  now  warm,  but  the 
skies  will  change,  and  bring  rains  and  snow  and  cold 
winds.' 

"Having  said  this,  the  Spirit  also  imparted  the  gift  of 
fire,  and  instructed  the  new  man  how  to  roast  the  flesh. 
He  then  placed  a  collar  of  wampum  around  his  neck. 
'This,'  said  he,  'is  your  authority  over  all  beasts.' 
Having  done  this,  the  Great  Spirit  rose  up  and 
vanished  from  sight. 

"  Wasbashas  refreshed  himself,  and  now  pursued 
his  way  to  his  native  land.  He  had  seated  himself 
on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  was  meditating  on 
what  had  passed,  when  a  large  beaver  rose  up  from 


106  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

the  channel  and  addressed  him.  'Who  art  thou,' 
said  the  beaver,  '  that  comest  here  to  disturb  my 
ancient  reign?'  'I  am  a  man,'  he  replied;  'I  was 
once  a  shell,  a  creeping  shell;  but  who  art  thou?' 
'  I  am  king  of  the  nation  of  beavers,'  he  answered. 
'I  lead  my  people  up  and  down  this  stream;  we 
are  a  busy  people,  and  the  river  is  my  dominion.' 
'  I  must  divide  it  with  you,'  retorted  Wasbashas. 
'  The  Great  Spirit  has  placed  me  at  the  head  of 
beasts  and  birds,  fishes  and  fowl,  and  has  provided 
me  with  the  power  of  maintaining  my  rights.'  Here 
he  held  up  the  bow  and  arrows,  and  displayed  the 
collar  of  shells  around  his  neck.  '  Come,  come,'  said 
the  beaver,  modifying  his  tone;  'I  perceive  we  are 
brothers.  Walk  with  me  to  my  lodge,  and  refresh 
yourself  after  your  journey';  and  so  saying,  he  led 
the  way.  The  Snail-Man  willingly  obeyed  his  invi- 
tation, and  had  no  reason  to  repent  of  his  con- 
fidence. They  soon  entered  a  fine  large  village, 
and  his  host  led  him  to  the  chief's  lodge.  It  was 
a  well-built  room,  of  a  cone-shape,  and  the  floor 
nicely  covered  with  mats.  As  soon  as  they  were 
seated,  the  beaver  directed  his  wife  and  daughter 
to  prepare  food  for  their  guest. 

"While  this  was  getting  ready,  the  beaver  chief 
thought  he  would  improve  his  opportunity  by  mak- 
ing a  fast  friend  of  so  superior  a  being,  whom  he 
saw,  at  the  same  time,  to  be  but  a  novice.  He 


'TIOMA   TELLS  STORIES   TO  AMUSE   US." 


Tioma,  the  Story-Teller  107 

informed  him  of  the  method  they  had  of  cutting 
down  trees  with  their  teeth,  and  of  felling  them 
across  streams  so  as  to  dam  up  the  water,  and 
described  the  method  of  finishing  their  dams  with 
leaves  and  clay.  He  also  instructed  him  in  the  way 
of  erecting  lodges,  and  with  other  wise  and  season- 
able conversation  beguiled  the  time.  His  wife  and 
daughter  now  entered,  bringing  in  vessels  of  fresh- 
peeled  poplar  and  willow  and  sassafras  and  alder 
bark,  which  is  the  choicest  food  known  to  them. 
Of  this  Wasbashas  made  a  merit  of  eating,  while 
his  entertainer  devoured  it  with  pleasure.  He  was 
pleased  with  the  modest  looks  and  deportment  of 
the  chiefs  daughter,  and  her  cleanly  and  neat  attire, 
and  her  assiduous  attention  to  the  commands  of  her 
father.  This  was  ripened  into  esteem  by  the  visit 
he  made  her.  A  mutual  attachment  ensued.  A  union 
was  proposed  to  the  father,  who  was  rejoiced  to  find 
so  advantageous  a  match  for  his  daughter.  A  great 
feast  was  prepared,  to  which  all  the  beavers,  and 
other  animals  on  good  terms  with  them,  were  invited. 
The  Snail-Man  and  the  Beaver-Maid  were  thus  united, 
and  this  was  the  origin  of  the  Red  Man." 

"  And  the  beaver  then,  Waupello,  was  your  great- 
great-great-great-grandmother,"  cried  Singing  Bird, 
opening  wide  her  big  blue  eyes. 

"  Tioma  tells  stories  to  amuse  us,"  replied  the  boy. 
"  But  the  beavers  are  very  wise,  and  their  houses  are 
all  Tioma  has  pictured  them." 


io8  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"And  is  there  not  a  painting  of  a  beaver  on  the 
totem  pole  that  stands  before  your  grandfather's  lodge, 
and  do  you  not  wear  the  sign  of  the  beaver  on  your 
belt  of  Wampum?"  roared  the  Big  Voice.  "Tioma 
can  see  as  well  as  Wahwun,  even  if  he  does  not 
wrap  himself  in  a  big  robe  and  make  noises  like 
a  mad  Jaba." 

"  I  like  Tioma  much  better  than  the  medicine- 
man," declared  Singing  Bird,  going  up  to  the  fat 
story-teller  and  tapping  with  her  finger  his  puffed 
cheek  on  which  was  an  illustration  of  a  hunter  killing 
a  bear. 

Big  Voice  caught  the  girl  in  his  arms,  and  swing- 
ing her  to  his  shoulder,  went  bellowing  along  the 
slope,  Waupello  running  beside  him. 

When  Tioma  and  the  children  reached  the  Village 
it  was  high  noon.  As  they  passed  the  Council  Chamber 
Panaqui  came  suddenly  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  build- 
ing, but  seeing  them  approaching  shrank  closely  against 
the  trunk  of  the  guardian  tree,  and  with  the  instinct 
of  creatures  of  the  forest,  became  no  more  than  a 
small  knot  on  the  rugged  trunk  of  the  pine. 

Big  Voice  and  his  playfellows  passed  on  without 
seeing  the  dwarf.  No  sooner  was  the  little  group  out 
of  sight  than  Panaqui  darted  to  the  door  of  the  Council 
Chamber,  and  with  a  rapid  glance  upward,  where  the 
sun  stood  straight  in  the  Zenith,  he  spun  through  the 
opening  and  dropped  the  curtains  behind  him. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

AN  ANGRY    SKY 

When  Panaqui  came  out  of  the  Council  Chamber  a 
few  moments  later,  there  was  a  mysterious  hush  per- 
vading the  atmosphere.  A  yellow-black  cloud  covered 
the  sun  and  the  earth  was  gray  with  the  shadow  of  it. 
Frightened  birds  flew  aimlessly  about,  and  the  trees 
shivered  and  seemed  to  huddle  together  with  prophetic 
fear. 

With  furtive  glances  over  his  high-peaked  shoul- 
ders, the  Crooked  One  hurried  across  the  open  ground 
about  the  Council  Chamber  and  plunged  into  the  wood 
beyond. 

As  he  disappeared,  there  came  the  ominous  roll  of 
thunder,  and  a  band  of  fire  tore  a  zigzag  line  through 
the  cloud  that  was  spreading  rapidly  over  the 
heavens. 

And  now  the  tops  of  the  trees  stirred  faintly,  as 
though  an  angry  breath  had  touched  them,  and  a  few 
drops,  like  great  tears,  plashed  in  the  dust  of  the  Com- 
mon Ground. 

The  villagers,  frightened  by  the  sudden  darkness 
that  had  fallen,  peered  anxiously  from  the  doors  of 

109 


no  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

their  tepees,  or  hurried  from  one  lodge  to  another, 
whispering  appeals  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  protection  or 
scattering  red  feathers  of  propitiation  to  the  Spirit  of 
Evil. 

But  the  angry  sky  took  no  heed  of  them.  Larger 
and  ever  larger  grew  the  terrible  cloud;  deeper  and 
ever  deeper  rolled  the  thunder;  nearer  and  ever  nearer 
darted  the  crooked  shafts  of  light,  until  with  the  rush 
and  roar  of  a  thousand  demons  the  storm  broke  upon 
the  village  in  a  flood  of  rain. 

Wanahta,  returning  from  the  lodge  of  Meeme,  was 
swinging  proudly  down  the  wooded  slope  to  his  own 
tepee  when  the  storm  broke.  He  did  not  feel  the 
sudden  change  in  the  atmosphere,  for  his  heart  was 
throbbing  with  a  new  joy — the  joy  of  requited  love. 
The  mother  of  Meeme,  but  an  hour  since,  had  bidden 
him  sit  beside  her  in  the  bridegroom's  seat  in  the  home 
lodge,  which  invitation  assured  the  sinewy  child  of  the 
forest  that  his  wooing  had  not  been  in  vain. 

He  had  remained  a  long  time  in  the  lodge,  hardly 
removing  his  eyes,  eloquent  with  love,  and  glad  with  the 
return  of  it  from  the  pretty  face  of  Meeme.  Few, 
indeed,  had  been  the  lovers'  words,  the  hunter's  heart 
being  too  full  of  this  new  and  radiant  happiness  to  allow 
of  speech;  and  the  saucy  Pigeon,  feeling  in  her  ever 
merry  heart  the  sacredness  of  the  hour,  forgot  for  the 
moment  the  good-natured  raillery  that  came  so  natu- 
rally to  her  rosy  lips,  and  with  which  she  had  so  long 


An  Angry  Sky- 


kept  the  brave  heart  of  Wanahta  trembling  between 
hope  and  despair. 

But  Wanahta,  once  out  in  the  woods,  which  he 
knew  so  well  and  to  which  he  could  tell  his  thoughts 
without  embarrassment,  let  his  lips  speak  the  words  that 
his  heart  sang  so  gayly,  and  he  strode  along  under  the 
friendly  boughs  chanting  bits  of  the  wild  minor  melo- 
dies of  the  chase,  or  breaking  forth  into  the  glorious 
challenge  of  the  battlefield — a  grand,  free  soul  of  the 
forest  and  plain,  crowned  with  the  chaplet  of  Love. 

When  the  storm  broke  in  all  its  sudden  fury, 
Wanahta  fairly  reveled  in  the  tumult  of  it;  he  threw  up 
his  proud  head  that  he  might  sniff  the  damp  air  and 
feel  the  rain  beating  against  his  throbbing  temples. 
He  came  across  Panaqui,  crouching  under  a  shriveled 
cedar,  shivering  and  gibbering  with  fright,  and  laughed 
aloud  at  what  he  took  to  be  the  dwarf's  abject  cow- 
ardice. 

But  the  happy  madness  of  Wanahta  received  a 
sudden  check,  and  even  his  seasoned  nerves  were  shaken 
as  the  storm,  pausing  for  an  instant  as  if  to  gather  unto 
itself  new  strength,  sent  forth  a  ball  of  liquid  fire,  that 
burst  with  a  deafening  crash  directly  over  the  roof  of 
the  Council  Chamber.  A  roar  that  shook  the  earth 
followed  instantly,  and  the  tall  pine-tree  that  guarded 
the  entrance  to  the  sacred  temple  burst  into  flames, 
reddening  the  sky,  and  casting  a  wild  and  weird  light 
over  the  surrounding  country. 


ii2  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

The  tepees  stood  in  fiery  silhouette  outlined  against 
the  flooded  earth,  and  the  grass  on  the  distant  prairie 
was  like  a  sea  of  flame. 

And  above  the  roar  of  the  storm  came  the  wailing 
of  the  tribe. 

Panaqui  threw  himself  face  downward  on  the  ground, 
groveling,  moaning,  supplicating,  his  misshapen  body 
in  its  contortions  resembling  some  evil  gnome  fighting 
an  invisible  enemy. 

Then  the  storm  passed,  the  sun  shone  out  clear  and 
bright  in  the  blue  heavens.  But  the  Guardian  Pine, 
at  the  door  of  the  Council  Chamber  still  cast  its  red 
glow  over  the  drenched  and  broken  tepees. 

Wanahta  hurried  into  the  village,  where  he  found 
Minno  and  Waupello  going  about  among  the  wailing 
people,  quieting  their  fears  and  offering  words  of  com- 
fort. 

As  soon  as  wood  could  be  found  dry  enough  to 
permit  of  kindling  a  fire,  a  feast  to  the  Angry  Sky  was 
prepared,  and  every  one  brought  sacrificial  offerings 
calculated  to  win  again  the  favor  of  the  Great  Spirit. 
But  not  until  the  burning  pine  fell  crashing  across 
the  Common  Ground  and  was  burned  to  ashes  did 
peace  return  to  the  village. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PIASAU 

A  few  days  after  the  storm  which  had  destroyed  the 
Guardian  Pine,  Pakablingge  was  found  dead  on  the 
beach  below  the  cliff  where  the  Piasau  dwelt.  The 
features  of  the  old  warrior  were  distorted  with  fear,  and 
in  his  wide-open,  staring  eyes  was  clearly  photographed 
the  image  of  the  monster.  Not  a  detail  of  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  Piasau,  as  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation  since  first  the  bird  was  created,  was  lacking 
in  the  picture  reflected  on  the  eyeballs  of  the  dead 
warrior. 

There  were  the  widespread  wings,  the  scale-covered 
body,  the  long  talons,  the  forked  horns  and  tail,  the 
grinning  jaws,  and  the  fierce  glaring  eyes  of  the  Piasau 
they  had  so  long  feared,  but  which  none  of  the  Arc- 
tides  save  Minno  had  ever  looked  upon  and  lived. 

Those  who  were  courageous  enough  to  gaze  for  a 
moment  upon  the  picture,  fled  horrified  to  tell  the  less 
daring,  and  consternation  seized  once  more  upon  the 
hearts  of  the  nation. 

This  was  the  first  appearance  of  the  Piasau  in 
Arctides  since  the  birth  of  Waupello,  and  the  Arctides 

"3 


ii4  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

had  begun  to  hope  that  the  mere  coming  of  the  chosen 
child  had  freed  them  from  the  bird's  persecutions.  Its 
unexpected  return,  to  claim  as  a  victim  one  of  the 
oldest  and  bravest  of  their  warriors,  rilled  the  people 
with  greater  fear  than  they  had  ever  before  known, 
and  everything  save  thoughts  of  the  bird  and  the  boy 
born  to  destroy  it  was  driven  from  their  minds. 

They  buried  the  grand  old  warrior  with  befitting 
ceremonies,  but  even  while  the  drums  were  being  beaten 
and  the  feast  celebrated  the  eyes  of  the  people  of  Arc- 
tides  were  turned  upon  Waupello,  and  his  name  mingled 
with  their  songs  and  supplications. 

Minno  appreciated  more  than  any  one  else  the  terror 
that  would  spread  among  the  people  with  the  return  of 
the  Piasau.  Pakablingge  had  been  his  warmest  friend, 
and  his  death,  too,  hung  heavy  upon  the  heart  of  the 
old  prophet.  Minno  reproached  himself  for  not  has- 
tening the  education  of  Waupello,  so  that  he  might  have 
been  prepared  for  his  work  before  the  coming  of  this 
last  bereavement,  and  resolved  to  waste  no  further 
time,  but  to  give  himself  over  entirely  to  the  boy's 
instruction. 

That  nothing  should  interfere  with  his  plans,  Minno 
suggested  to  Waupello  that  the  boy  give  to  his  play- 
mates his  collection  of  rare  bows,  arrows,  feathers, 
skins,  and  shells,  abandon  his  tepee,  and  come  to  dwell 
in  the  lodge  of  his  grandfather.  Waupello  unhesi- 
tatingly acted  upon  the  old  prophet's  counsel,  feeling 


The  Return  of  the  Piasau  115 

now  for  the  first  time  the  full  responsibility  of  his 
mission,  and  the  two  henceforth  became  constant  com- 
panions. All  boyish  sports  and  lighter  enjoyments 
were  laid  aside,  and  the  prophet  and  the  boy  com- 
menced living  on  the  most  frugal  fare,  so  that  their 
minds  might  be  filled  with  noble  thoughts  and  aspira- 
tions. 

They  spent  whole  days  and  nights  in  the  woods  or 
upon  the  broad  prairies,  listening,  discoursing,  seeking 
for  the  Fount  of  Wisdom,  that  they  might  go  forward 
toward  perfection. 

Sometimes,  as  Waupello  and  his  grandfather  sat 
together  in  the  evening  on  the  grassy  banks  of  the 
Long  River,  the  boy  would  take  from  his  robe  the  pre- 
cious flute  that  had  now  become  as  his  own  voice,  and 
play  soft  melodies  that  to  Minno  seemed  liquid  words, 
revealing  the  thoughts  of  Waupello's  soul.  And  the 
old  prophet,  casting  his  beautiful  eyes  up  to  the  twin- 
kling stars,  would  offer  silent  prayers  for  the  fulfillment 
of  the  prophecy,  and  the  ultimate  saving  of  their 
people. 

When  Waupello  and  the  prophet  would  return,  on 
rare  occasions,  to  the  village,  the  people  stood  silent 
where  they  passed,  gazing  upon  them  with  adoring 
eyes.  Before  the  lodge  of  Minno  was  always  heaped 
the  best  gifts  of  the  field  and  of  the  chase,  but  the 
wants  of  the  old  man  and  Waupello  were  now  so  few 
and  simple  that  the  offerings  of  their  tribesmen  became 


n6  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

sacrificial,  and  were  given  to  the  fire  of  supplication 
that  now  was  kept  continually  burning  on  the  Common 
Ground. 

As  the  days  went  by,  Waupello's  appearance  under- 
went a  marked  change.  His  sinewy  frame  grew  more 
tense;  the  lines  of  his  strong,  sweet  face  became  more 
delicate  and  a  spiritual  melancholy  dwelt  in  the  depths 
of  his  large  dark  eyes.  His  voice  became  daily  more 
clear  and  melodious,  like  the  tones  of  his  flute,  so  that 
his  lightest  words  might  be  heard  above  the  shouts  of 
the  hunters. 

Sometimes  he  would  speak  to  the  people,  telling 
them  in  a  simple,  unaffected  way  not  to  lose  hope,  nor 
to  be  discouraged,  for  the  Great  Spirit  loved  them,  and 
would  in  the  end,  if  they  would  have  faith,  show  them 
a  smiling  countenance.  He  told  them  too  of  the 
country  of  which  he  had  spoken  to  his  mother  that 
Autumn  day  in  the  wood;  of  that  beautiful  Land  of  the 
Sun  to  which  he  hoped  some  day  to  lead  them,  and 
where  the  terrible  winters  of  their  present  home  were 
never  known. 

The  Arctides  dwelt  lovingly  on  his  words,  and 
believed  them;  and  as  the  boy  had  at  one  time  said  the 
journey  to  the  new  country  would  be  made  down  the 
Long  River,  they  set  about  building  canoes  sufficient  to 
carry  the  whole  tribe  of  Arctides  thither.  For  this 
purpose  they  stripped  the  bark  of  the  red  elm  and  the 
birch  trees  and  carried  it  to  the  village  to  be  converted 


The  Return  of  the  Piasau  117 

into  canoes.  The  bottoms  of  the  canoes  were  made  of 
one  piece  of  bark,  and  with  the  keels  perfectly  round, 
but  the  sides  were  of  many  pieces,  overlapping  like  a 
sheath,  and  the  sheathed  edges  sewn  together  with  thin 
filaments  of  elm  bark,  or  with  the  strong  roots  of  the 
tamarack.  Then  the  Arctides  covered  the  seams  over 
thoroughly  with  the  gum  of  the  fir-tree,  and  made  it 
perfectly  tight,  so  that  it  would  ride  upon  the  water 
light  as  a  feather. 

Everybody  in  the  village  was  now  employed  in  the 
building  of  canoes  and  more  than  a  thousand  were  put 
under  way.  Some  were  about  twenty-five  feet  long, 
and  some  were  thirty-five  feet  long,  each  family  build- 
ing a  canoe  of  sufficient  size  to  carry  its  own  members. 
The  canoes  were  made  strong  and  safe,  for  the  journey 
might  be  a  long  one,  and  they  felt  that  the  time  was 
approaching  when  great  things  were  about  to  befall  the 
people  of  Arctides. 

Some  of  the  boats  were  made  of  untanned  hides  of 
the  buffalo  and  the  elk,  and  each  family  followed  its 
own  inclinations  in  the  building  and  adornment  of  their 
boats. 

But  the  canoe  on  which  the  highest  art  and  utmost 
ingenuity  of  the  tribe  was  expended  was  the  craft  which 
the  people  destined  to  carry  the  prophet  Minno,  Wau- 
pello,  Pakoble,  and  Singing  Bird  to  their  new  abiding- 
place. 

This  canoe  was  built  of  the  silver  birch,  the  most 


n8  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

gorgeous  bark  that  can  be  obtained  for  the  purpose, 
and  was  twenty  deerskins  in  length.  In  its  widest 
part,  six  of  the  broadest  warriors  of  the  tribe  might 
have  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder.  It  was  ornamented 
with  the  finest  pictures  the  best  artists  of  the  tribe  could 
paint,  or  carvers  could  design. 

At  the  bow  was  a  carving  of  a  bird  with  outspread 
pinions,  while  at  the  stern  was  the  figure  of  a  warrior 
letting  fly  an  arrow.  So  gorgeous  a  boat  had  never 
been  made  by  the  Arctides  before,  and  each  man  and 
woman  and  child  of  the  tribe  did  some  part  of  the  work, 
every  one  contributing  something  to  the  canoe.  So 
great  was  the  love  for  Waupello ;  so  rooted  their  faith 
in  his  words. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  SUPREME  FESTIVAL 

Winter  came  and  sealed  up  the  river,  built  thick 
white  walls  along  the  length  of  the  ravines,  caught  the 
swelling  prairie  in  a  giant's  grip  and  held  it  in  frozen 
undulations,  threw  cloaks  of  ermine  about  the  shoulders 
of  the  pines  and  the  fir-trees,  reared  mammoth  figures 
along  the  face  of  the  cliffs,  and  challenged  the  stars  of 
heaven  in  the  multitude  of  its  scintillations. 

Winter  came  into  the  village,  too,  and  tore  furiously 
at  the  skins  of  the  tepees,  covered  the  Common  Ground 
waist-deep  with  frozen  drifts  and  blocked  the  trail  that 
led  to  the  Sacred  Spring.  But  the  spring  itself  the 
Winter  could  not  conquer.  No  matter  how  cold  the 
Northwind  blew,  or  how  heavy  the  frost  that  settled 
upon  the  earth,  the  water  in  the  Sacred  Spring  sparkled 
free  in  the  sun,  and  danced  merrily  over  the  rocks  to 
run  away  under  the  frozen  drifts  of  snow  that  arched 
the  brook  on  its  journey  to  the  Long  River.  When  it 
was  coldest,  the  Spring  blew  a  misty  breath  up  into 
Winter's  face  in  sheer  defiance  of  his  power. 

Like  the  Sacred  Spring,  the  spirits  of  the  people 
of  Arctides  defied  the  storm  and  cold,  and  gathered 
around  the  blazing  knots  of  pine  and  cedar,  reinforced 

119 


120  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

with  seasoned  sticks  of  harder  timber;  they  wove  and 
carved  and  chipped  at  flints,  and  told  tales  of  love 
and  adventure,  until  even  the  hurrying  winds  seemed 
tempted  to  linger  and  listen. 

So  had  the  days  gone  by,  and  now  Winter  was 
almost  over,  and  the  feast  of  the  Arctides'  New  Year  was 
about  to  be  celebrated.  This  was  the  Feast  of  Supreme 
Belief,  and  was  held  generally  in  February,  just  before 
the  coming  of  the  Spring.  The  festival  continued 
seven  days,  revealing  in  its  ceremonies  nearly  every 
feature  in  the  religious  system  of  the  nation,  the 
principal  sacrifice  being  a  white  buffalo  or  deer,  such 
animals  being  held  sacred  by  the  tribe.  But  as  seldom 
was  there  a  hunter  found  fearless  enough  to  take  the 
life  of  one  of  these  rare  and  beautiful  creatures,  a 
white  dog  was  usually  substituted. 

For  this  occasion,  however,  it  seemed  a  good  Manito 
had  supplied  the  object  of  sacrifice,  for  on  the  very  day 
the  Council  set  the  time  for  the  festival  a  snow-white 
deer  was  provided.  On  that  day  Wanahta,  returning 
from  following  the  trail  of  a  stag,  surprised  a  wildcat 
in  the  act  of  dispatching  a  white  doe,  and  sending  an 
arrow  through  the  heart  of  the  fierce  beast,  brought 
home  its  victim,  and  laid  it  reverently  before  the  Altar 
in  the  Council  Chamber. 

The  New  Year's  festival  was  ushered  in  by  two  of 
the  keepers  of  the  faith,  who  visited  every  tepee  in 
and  about  the  village  every  morning  during  the  seven 


The  Supreme  Festival  121 

days'  feast.  These  messengers  were  disguised  in  bear- 
skins and  buffalo-hides,  which  were  secured  around  their 
heads  with  wreaths  of  cornhusks,  and  then  gathered 
in  loose  folds  about  the  body;  wreaths  of  cornhusks 
were  also  adjusted  around  their  elbows  and  wrists  and 
thighs  and  ankles.  Robed  in  this  manner,  they  were 
painted  by  two  of  the  matrons  of  Arctides,  who  were  also 
keepers  of  the  faith.  They  were  then  commissioned 
by  the  Council  to  go  forth  and  announce  the  jubilee. 
Taking  corn-pounders  in  their  hands,  they  went  out 
separately  on  the  morning  of  the  day  appointed  for 
the  opening  of  the  Supreme  Festival  to  perform  their 
duty.  Upon  entering  a  tepee  they  saluted  the  in- 
mates in  a  formal  manner,  after  which  they  struck 
the  floor  with  the  corn-pounder  to  invoke  silence 
and  secure  attention,  when  they  thus  addressed 
them: 

"Listen,  listen,  listen!  The  ceremonies  which 
the  Great  Spirit  has  commanded  are  about  to  com- 
mence. Prepare  your  houses.  Clear  away  the  rubbish. 
Drive  out  all  evil  animals.  We  wish  nothing  to  hinder 
or  obstruct  the  coming  observances.  We  enjoin  upon 
every  one  to  obey  our  requirements.  Should  any  of 
your  friends  be  taken  sick  and  die,  we  command  you 
not  to  mourn  for  them,  nor  allow  any  of  your  friends 
to  mourn;  but  lay  the  body  aside  and  enjoy  the  coming 
ceremonies  with  us.  When  they  are  over  we  will 
mourn  with  you." 


122  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

After  singing  the  song  of  thanksgiving  they  passed 
out. 

For  the  present  ceremony  this  pleasant  duty  was 
assigned  to  Little  Fox,  whom  Wanahta  had  defeated 
in  the  javelin  contest,  and  Mantoweesee,  the  Thought- 
ful, who  had  now  grown  into  a  fine  young  hunter, 
second  only  to  Wanahta  in  the  science  of  woodcraft. 
Pakoble,  and  Meeme,  who  was  now  the  wife  of  Wanahta, 
were  chosen  by  the  messengers  to  decorate  them.  In 
this  task  they  were  assisted  by  Singing  Bird,  with 
many  laughing  suggestions  as  to  the  costuming  and 
decorations,  while  Shandagaya  brought  the  skins  and 
the  husks,  or  stood  at  hand  with  the  paints. 

The  first  day  of  the  festival  dawned  clear  and  crisp, 
the  snow  sparkling  brightly  in  the  sun  that  shone  with 
unusual  luster.  A  great  pyre  of  cedar  logs,  trimmed 
with  the  tips  of  pine  boughs,  stood  in  the  center  of  the 
Common  Ground,  ready  to  receive  the  sacrifice  of  the 
white  deer. 

When  the  people  were  assembled,  Minno  and  Wau- 
pello  came  and  stood  by  the  altar,  while  Wanahta,  the 
hunter,  lifted  the  body  of  the  doe  and  laid  it  upon  the 
bier.  Then  while  Wahwun  stood  ready  with  a  lighted 
torch  to  fire  the  sacred  pile,  Minno  stretched  forth  his 
hands  and  thanked  the  Great  Spirit  for  his  mercy  and 
goodness,  asking  that  the  sacrifices  they  were  about  to 
make  might  find  favor  in  his  sight.  He  implored  the 
protection  of  the  merciful  Father  on  his  children,  and 


The  Supreme  Festival  123 

that  his  love  might  be  around  them  as  a  shield  against 
all  evil;  he  spoke  of  the  suffering  and  terror  caused  by 
the  awful  Piasau,  and  prayed  for  its  speedy  destruction. 
After  invoking  a  blessing  on  the  pursuits  of  the  people 
for  the  coming  year,  he  lifted  up  his  face  to  the  sun 
and  stood  silent.  Every  one  present  followed  him  in 
thus  standing  a  moment  with  outstretched  arms,  their 
faces  turned  to  the  sun,  while  Wahwun  applied  the 
torch  to  the  sacrificial  fire. 

Then  the  drums  began  to  beat,  the  rattles  to  sound, 
and  the  people,  chanting  the  thanksgiving  hymn  of  the 
Supreme  Festival,  began  moving  slowly  about  the  altar. 
But  as  the  music  increased  the  chanting  grew  louder, 
the  motions  of  the  worshipers  more  rapid  and  pro- 
nounced, until  in  a  short  time  the  whole  concourse  of 
people  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  exultation. 

And  now  the  flames  about  the  altar,  as  if  in  emula- 
tion of  the  spirit  of  the  worshipers,  rising  swiftly  over 
the  seasoned  logs  of  cedar,  burst  into  a  transparent 
arc  of  fire,  in  whose  opalescent  center  rested  the  body 
of  the  sacrifice. 

For  a  moment  the  glorious  walls  of  flame,  forming 
a  perfect  arch,  seemed  to  stand  still  about  the  delicate 
white  animal,  and  then,  translated  by  the  intense  heat, 
the  sacred  body  instantly  disappeared,  and  a  spiral 
column  of  blue  smoke,  rising  straight  toward  the 
central  point  of  the  heavens,  took  upward  to  the  sun 
the  offering  of  the  Arctides. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TIOMA  AND  THE  CHILDREN 

The  third  day  of  the  Supreme  Festival  was  devoted 
to  the  children,  and  on  the  Common  Ground,  where 
the  snow  by  the  continued  tramping  had  become 
packed  to  a  solid  mass  or  disappeared  altogether,  their 
games  went  forward  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  of 
the  sun.  In  the  evening  Tioma  was  to  entertain  them, 
?.nd  as  the  weather  was  still  cold  it  was  decided  to 
place  the  Council  Chamber  at  their  disposal. 

Thither  then  Tioma  with  the  help  of  Mantowesee 
carried  his  stage,  made  of  buffalo-hides  stretched  over 
stringers  of  white  cedar,  setting  it  up  at  the  north  side 
of  the  edifice  opposite  to  and  facing  the  Altar  of 
Hasihta.  Thither  too  he  carried  many  pine  torches, 
with  which  he  surrounded  his  little  rostrum;  he  also 
built  up  a  couch  of  skins  across  the  back  of  the  stage 
for  use  in  his  performance. 

Then  selecting  from  his  pouch  a  quantity  of  dried 
peppermint  leaves,  he  ground  them  to  a  fine  powder 
between  his  huge  palms.  This  powder  was  to  be  burned 
as  incense  to  the  merry  Manitos,  for  no  enterprise  of 
moment,  whether  serious  or  for  amusement,  was  ever 

124 


Tioma  and  the  Children  125 

entered  upon  by  the  Arctides  without  first  making  an 
offering  or  libation  of  some  kind  to  the  ruling  spirit  of 
the  occasion. 

Everything  being  prepared,  Tioma  dispatched 
Mantowesee  to  inform  the  children  that  he  was  in 
readiness  to  receive  them. 

The  children  of  the  village  needed  no  urging  to 
attend  an  entertainment  where  Tioma  was  to  be  the 
chief  actor.  Big  Voice  was  to  the  little  ones  the  very 
prince  of  entertainers.  He  peopled  their  young  minds 
with  a  host  of  elfs,  goblins,  good  and  bad  Manitos: 
delightful  people  with  whom  no  one  else  seemed  to  be 
the  least  bit  familiar,  but  whom  Tioma  knew  intimately 
and  whom  he  always  introduced  to  his  eager-eyed, 
open-eared  listeners,  the  children  of  Arctides. 

And  to  have  for  their  sole  use  the  glorious  Council 
Chamber,  wherein  they  had  seen  so  many  mighty  chiefs 
assembled  in  solemn  conclave,  decked  in  their  magnifi- 
cent robes  and  plumes  of  the  Golden  Eagle,  was  a  treat 
beyond  their  wildest  anticipations! 

Soon  they  came  trooping  at  the  heels  of  Man- 
towesee, who  chided  them  softly  for  their  noisy  mirth 
at  the  very  door  of  the  Council  Chamber,  and  bade 
them  enter  quietly  lest  they  should  disturb  the  Sacred 
Spirits  that  were  supposed  to  frequent  the  temple. 

Singing  Bird  was  almost  the  last  to  arrive,  and  was 
invited  by  Tioma  to  a  seat  on  a  fawnskin  that  he  had 
spread  for  the  purpose,  directly  in  front  of  the  stage. 


126  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Tioma's  audience  quite  filled  the  floor  of  the  Coun- 
cil Chamber  not  set  apart  for  the  religious  ceremonies, 
a  narrow  space  which  no  one  save  the  prophets  and 
priests  ever  invaded.  Tioma's  little  auditors  squatted 
themselves  on  the  soft  skins  close  to  one  another  and 
prepared  to  enjoy  to  the  fullest  extent  whatever  Big 
Voice  had  to  offer. 

When  the  children  were  all  in  and  seated  quietly, 
Tioma  lighted  a  small  earthenware  lamp  filled  with 
bear's  oil,  and  when  the  flames  were  burning  blue  and 
ghostly,  he  threw  small  pinches  of  the  powdered  pep- 
permint upon  them,  which  filled  the  whole  edifice  with 
a  most  delightful  odor. 

Then  the  torches  about  the  stage  were  lighted,  and 
Big  Voice,  mounting  the  platform,  announced  that  he 
would  tell  the  children  the  story  of  the  boy  who  set  a 
snare  for  the  sun. 

At  this  there  was  a  smothered  exclamation  of 
delight,  and  Tioma,  prepared  to  impersonate  all  the 
characters  of  the  drama,  began  the  following  legend: 

"  At  the  time  when  the  animals  reigned  in  the  earth 
they  had  killed  all  but  a  girl  and  her  little  brother,  and 
these  two  were  living  in  fear  and  seclusion.  The  boy 
was  a  perfect  pigmy,  and  never  grew  beyond  the  stature 
of  a  small  infant,  but  the  girl  increased  with  her  years, 
so  that  the  labor  of  providing  food  and  lodging 
devolved  wholly  on  her.  She  went  out  daily  to  get 
wood  for  their  lodge-fire,  and  took  her  little  brother 


Tioma  and  the  Children  127 

along  that  no  accident  might  happen  to  him;  for  he  was 
too  little  to  leave  alone.  A  big  bird  might  have  flown 
away  with  him.  She  made  him  a  bow  and  arrows,  and 
said  to  him  one  day: 

' '  I  will  leave  you  behind  where  I  have  been  chop- 
ping, but  you  must  hide  yourself.  When  you  see  the 
snowbirds  come  to  pick  the  worms  out  of  the  wood 
where  I  have  been  chopping,  shoot  one  of  the  birds 
and  bring  it  home.' 

"  He  obeyed  her,  and  tried  his  best  to  kill  one,  but 
came  home  unsuccessful.  She  told  him  he  must  not 
despair,  but  try  again  the  next  day.  She  accordingly 
left  him  at  the  same  place  next  day.  Toward  nightfall 
she  heard  his  little  footsteps  on  the  snow,  and  he  came 
in  exultingly,  and  threw  down  one  of  the  birds  which 
he  had  killed. 

"'My  sister,'  said  he,  'I  wish  you  to  skin  it  and 
stretch  the  skin,  and  when  I  have  killed  more,  I  will 
have  a  coat  made  out  of  them.' 

"  '  But  what  shall  we  do  with  the  body?'  said  she; 
for  as  yet  men  had  not  begun  to  eat  animal  food,  but 
lived  on  vegetables  alone. 

"  '  Cut  it  in  two,'  he  answered,  '  and  season  our 
pottage  with  half  of  it  at  a  time.' 

"  She  did  so.  The  boy,  who  was  of  a  very  small  stat- 
ure, continued  his  efforts,  and  succeeded  in  killing  ten 
birds,  out  of  the  skins  of  which  his  sister  made  him  a 
little  coat. 


128  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"  'Sister/  said  he  one  day,  'we  are  all  alone  in  the 
world.  Is  there  nobody  else  living?'  She  told  him 
that  those  they  feared  and  who  had  destroyed  their 
relatives  lived  in  a  certain  quarter,  and  that  he  must  by 
no  means  go  in  that  direction.  This  only  served  to 
inflame  his  curiosity,  and  raise  his  ambition,  and  he 
soon  after  took  his  bow  and  arrows  and  went  away. 

"After  walking  a  long  time  and  meeting  nothing, 
he  became  tired,  and  lay  down  on  a  knoll,  where  the 
sun  had  melted  the  snow.  He  fell  fast  asleep;  and 
while  sleeping,  the  sun  beat  so  hot  upon  him  that  it 
singed  and  dried  up  his  bird-skin  coat,  so  that  when  he 
awoke  and  stretched  himself,  he  felt  bound  in  it,  as  it 
were.  When  he  looked  down  and  saw  the  damage 
done  to  his  coat,  he  flew  into  a  passion  and  upbraided 
the  sun,  and  vowed  vengeance  against  it. 

Do  not  think  you  are  too  high!'  he  cried  to  the 
sun.     '  I  shall  revenge  myself.' 

"  On  coming  home,  he  related  his  disaster  to  his 
sister,  and  lamented  bitterly  the  spoiling  of  his  coat. 
He  would  not  eat.  He  lay  down  as  one  that  fasts,  and 
did  not  stir  or  move  his  position  for  ten  days,  though 
she  tried  all  she  could  to  arouse  him.  At  the  end  of 
ten  days  he  turned  over,  and  then  lay  ten  days  on  the 
other  side.  When  he  got  up,  he  told  his  sister  to  make 
him  a  snare,  for  he  meant  to  catch  the  sun.  She  said 
she  had  nothing,  but  finally  recollected  a  little  piece  of 
dried  deer's  sinew  that  her  father  had  left,  which  she 


Tioma  and  the  Children  129 

soon  made  into  a  string  suitable  for  a  noose.  But  the 
moment  she  showed  it  to  him  he  told  her  it  would  not 
do,  and  bid  her  get  something  else.  She  said  she  had 
nothing — nothing  at  all.  At  last  she  thought  of  her 
hair,  and  pulling  some  of  it  out  of  her  head  made  a 
string.  But  he  instantly  said  it  would  not  answer,  and 
bid  her  pettishly,  and  with  authority,  make  him  a 
noose.  She  told  him  there  was  nothing  to  make  it  of, 
and  went  out  of  the  lodge. 

"  But  while  going  about  in  the  wood  she  came  upon 
the  bones  of  the  birds  they  had  eaten,  and  stripping 
away  the  tough  cords  that  clung  to  the  bones  she  has- 
tened back  to  the  tepee  and  gave  them  braided  to  her 
brother. 

"The  moment  he  saw  this  curious  braid  he  was 
delighted.  '  This  will  do/  he  said,  and  immediately 
began  pulling  the  braid  through  his  hands.  As  fast  as 
he  drew,  it  changed  into  a  red  metal  cord,  like  the 
copper  Minno  tells  us  our  ancestors  used  to  make  pots 
and  kettles  of.  This  cord  he  wound  around  his  body 
and  shoulders  till  he  had  a  large  quantity.  He  then 
prepared  himself,  and  set  out  a  little  after  midnight, 
that  he  might  catch  the  sun  before  it  rose.  He  fixed 
his  snare  on  a  spot  just  where  the  sun  should  strike  the 
land  before  it  rose  above  the  earth.  And  sure  enough 
he  caught  the  sun,  so  that  it  was  held  fast  in  the  cord 
and  did  not  rise. 

"  The  animals  who  ruled  the  earth  were  immedi- 


ijo  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

ately  put  into  a  great  commotion.  They  had  no  light. 
They  called  a  council  to  debate  upon  the  matter,  and 
to  appoint  some  one  to  go  and  cut  the  cord — for  this 
was  a  very  hazardous  enterprise,  as  the  rays  of  the  sun 
would  burn  whoever  came  so  near  to  them.  At  last  the 
dormouse  undertook  it,  for  at  this  time  the  dormouse 
was  the  largest  animal  in  the  world.  When  it  stood  up 
it  looked  like  a  mountain. 

"  When  the  dormouse  got  to  the  place  where  the 
sun  was  snared,  its  back  began  to  smoke  and  burn  with 
the  intensity  of  the  heat,  and  the  top  of  its  body  was 
reduced  to  enormous  heaps  of  ashes.  It  succeeded, 
however,  in  cutting  the  cord  with  its  teeth,  and  freeing 
the  sun,  but  it  was  reduced  to  a  very  small  size,  and  has 
remained  so  ever  since." 

As  Tioma  proceeded  with  the  story,  sometimes  talk- 
ing in  a  small  voice  like  the  girl,  then  high  and  piping 
like  the  boy,  then  roaring  like  the  dormouse  when  he 
was  a  mammoth,  and  again  in  the  wee  small  voice  of 
the  dormouse  after  it  had  been  burned  to  a  tiny  shape, 
the  children  laughed,  sighed,  wept,  and  applauded,  so 
that  Tioma  found  it  at  times  difficult  to  continue. 

When  it  was  all  over,  they  went  chattering  out  of 
the  Council  Chamber,  and  when  they  found  the  snow 
coming  down  softly  in  great  white  flakes,  they  ran  about 
trying  to  catch  the  feathery  particles,  tumbling  over 
each  other,  and  emerging  from  the  drifts  with  their 
deerskin  robes  white  with  the  newly  fallen  snow. 


Tioma  and  the  Children  131 

But  Singing  Bird,  her  mind  full  of  her  friend  and 
playmate  Waupello,  did  not  join  in  the  merry  romp, 
but  walked  quietly  beside  Tioma,  her  sober  face  a  great 
contrast  to  the  merry  ones  about  her. 

Past  the  lodge  of  Minno  trooped  the  happy  band  of 
children,  filling  the  air  with  the  sweet  music  of  their 
young  voices.  The  old  prophet,  hearing  the  joyous 
rout,  nodded  and  smiled  over  at  Waupello,  where  he 
sat  in  deep  contemplation  of  the  future  of  his  people 
and  their  ultimate  happiness.  And  Waupello,  drop- 
ping his  face  in  his  hands,  prayed  to  the  Great  Spirit 
to  hasten  the  time  when  the  destruction  of  the  people 
should  cease,  and  the  joy  of  the  children  should  dwell 
in  every  heart. 

The  glad  shouts  of  the  children  had  long  since  died 
away  on  the  frosty  air,  and  the  village  was  wrapped  in 
slumber,  when  Waupello,  lifting  his  head,  said: 

"  Minno,  I  hear  a  voice  calling  me  to  come  and 
walk  alone,  that  I  may  be  told  the  secret  of  the 
casket." 

"  It  may  be  no  more  than  the  echo  of  the  children's 
voices  in  your  ears,"  said  the  old  prophet,  loath  to  have 
the  boy  go  forth  in  the  storm. 

1  'Tis  the  voice  of  the  Great  Spirit,  O  Minno,  and 
Waupello  longs  for  the  message."  And  drawing  his 
robe  about  him,  Waupello  went  forth  in  the  night 
alone. 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE   WORD 

When  morning  broke,  the  quiet  snow  had  ceased  to 
fall,  but  a  soft  white  carpet  lay  over  the  hard  frozen 
crust  of  the  long  winter  and  the  whole  earth  was  man- 
tled in  a  fleece  of  dazzling  white. 

The  wise  ones  nodded  their  heads  knowingly,  and 
said  the  maple-sap  would  run  freely  this  year  and  the 
earth  would  be  rich  for  the  harvest. 

The  spectacle  of  the  dissolution  of  the  snow-white 
doe  at  the  sacrifice  was  considered  a  special  recogni- 
tion by  the  Great  Spirit  of  the  offering,  and  the  people 
of  Arctides  continued  the  Supreme  Festival  with  hearts 
filled  with  thankfulness. 

But  Minno  could  not  bring  his  mind  to  dwell  upon 
these  things.  His  thoughts  turned  constantly  to  Wau- 
pello,  alone  in  the  snow-bound  forest,  or  on  the  frozen 
plain,  and  a  silent  prayer  was  ever  on  the  old  prophet's 
lips  for  the  beloved  boy's  safety. 

Minno,  being  the  chief  prophet  and  father  of  the 
Arctides,  his  presence  was  absolutely  necessary  at  the 
opening  of  all  the  ceremonies,  but  once  these  duties 

132 


LISTENING   FOR   THE   WORD. 


The  Word  133 

were  performed,  he  returned  to  his  lodge  and  gave  his 
soul  to  supplication. 

But  the  Supreme  Festival  came  to  an  end  at  last, 
and  the  villagers,  worn  out  by  the  attendant  excite- 
ment, slept  soundly  in  their  tepees. 

The  night  seemed  strangely  silent  after  the  noisy 
beating  of  drums,  the  shoutings  and  chantings  of  the 
ceremonies,  and  the  crackling  of  the  sacrificial  fires, 
which  had  continued  almost  without  intermission  for 
seven  days. 

The  first  faint  colors  of  dawn  were  stealing  up  the 
sky,  when  Minno,  waking  from  a  light  sleep,  saw  Wau- 
pello  standing  in  the  center  of  the  lodge.  The  light 
of  the  sacerdotal  lamp,  now  kept  burning  continually 
in  the  lodge  of  the  Prophet,  shone  full'  on  the  spiritual 
face  of  the  boy,  which  bore  such  a  lofty  and  inspired 
expression  that  Minno  was  thrilled  with  the  sublimity 
of  it. 

Rising  from  his  couch,  the  prophet  would  have 
thrown  himself  at  the  feet  of  this  Child  of  the  Sun,  but 
Waupello,  putting  his  arm  about  the  shoulders  of 
Minno,  gently  forced  him  back  upon  the  bed  of  skins, 
and  seating  himself  beside  his  grandfather,  said  in  his 
flute-like  tones: 

"Minno,  rejoice,  for  thy  prayers  for  the  people  are 
answered.  In  the  silence  of  the  forest  Waupello  has 
seen  the  Bird  of  Beautiful  Plumage.  It  has  told  him 
the  way  he  should  go.  His  duty  is  clear  before  him. 


134  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Three  days  he  will  rest  in  your  lodge.  On  the  fourth 
let  the  people  assemble,  and  then  when  our  father,  the 
Sun,  looks  down  from  his  height  in  the  heavens,  at  the 
Altar  of  Hasihta,  the  Sun-Man,  the  casket  will  open 
before  them." 

As  Waupello  spoke,  the  light  that  illumined  his 
face  was  imparted  to  that  of  the  prophet,  and  as  the 
music  of  the  young  voice  died  away,  Minno  rose,  and 
brought  the  meat  of  nuts  and  the  sweet  juice  of  berries 
and  spread  them  before  Waupello. 

And  the  Child  of  the  Sun  having  broken  his  fast, 
lay  down  upon  the  couch  of  skins  and  fell  sweetly 
asleep.  Then  Minno  went  forth  in  the  glorious  light 
of  the  morning  to  proclaim  the  glad  news  to  all  the 
tribe  of  Arctides. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  ARROW  OF  THE  SUN 

The  day  for  which  the  Arctides  so  long  had  waited, 
the  day  which  was  to  see  the  opening  of  the  casket  and 
the  delivery  into  the  hands  of  Waupello  the  wonderful 
Arrow  of  the  Sun,  was  come  at  last. 

Since  early  morning  the  people  had  been  gathering 
upon  the  Common  Ground  until  every  man  and  woman 
of  the  tribe  was  present. 

But  no  chanting  of  songs  or  beating  of  drums  dis- 
turbed the  quiet  of  the  forest  or  echoed  amongst  the 
cliffs.  The  time  was  too  intense  for  outward  ceremo- 
nies. The  people  had  suffered  so  long,  hoping  against 
hope  for  the  arrival  of  this  hour,  that  now  it  was  at 
hand  the  sublimity  of  it  all  filled  them  with  awe  beyond 
the  power  of  utterance. 

Twice  had  the  hearts  of  the  present  generation 
swelled  high  with  hope,  only  to  meet  with  bitter  disap- 
pointment. The  gentle  Nirigwis,  too  frail  and  spirit- 
ual to  endure  his  initial  fast,  had  been  taken  early  by 
the  Good  Manitos,  and  the  noble  but  warlike  Strong- 
heart  had  paid  the  penalty  of  his  ambition  with  death 
on  the  field  of  battle. 

135 


136  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Could  it  be  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  another  dis- 
appointment in  store  for  them?  But  no;  in  Waupello 
they  saw  the  gentle  mind  of  Nirigwis  and  the  manly 
strength  and  heroic  valor  of  Strongheart  combined. 
Surely  he  would  not  fail  them.  His  life  had  been  such 
as  to  inspire  the  confidence  of  the  most  careless  or 
skeptical.  If  now  at  the  supreme  moment  doubts 
thrust  themselves  upon  the  minds  of  the  people,  it 
was  more  because  the  certainty  of  fulfillment  was  too 
blissful  a  thought  to  be  borne  without  pain.  For 
hours  they  stood  in  a  compact  line,  reaching  from  the 
center  of  the  village  to  the  spring-brook  that  bordered 
the  prairie,  their  faces  gray  with  suppressed  emotion, 
their  eyes  fixed  on  the  Council  Chamber,  waiting  till 
the  sun  mounting  slowly  up  the  sky  should  approach 
the  meridian.  Then  the  great  curtain  of  the  Council 
Chamber  would  be  drawn  aside  and  in  solemn  pro- 
cession the  people  would  file  by  the  Altar  of  Hasihta 
and  look  upon  the  copper  case  which  held  the  one  Hope 
of  the  Children  of  the  Sun. 

And  now  from  the  upper  end  of  the  village  in  the 
direction  of  the  medicine  lodge  came  the  sound  of  the 
ceremonial  drums,  and  Wahwun,  wearing  the  com- 
plete dress  of  the  Chief  of  the  Metas,  appeared,  fol- 
lowed by  the  lesser  medicine-men  of  the  tribe.  He 
came  proudly  down  the  slope,  his  plumed  head-dress 
trailing  behind  him,  his  medicine-bag,  made  of  the 
skins  of  many  birds  and  reptiles,  held  like  a  shield  upon 


The  Arrow  of  the  Sun  137 

his  breast.  The  Metas  took  a  position  at  the  right  of 
the  Common  Ground,  facing  east. 

Next  came  Wanahta,  who  had  been  promoted  to 
the  place  made  vacant  by  the  death  of  Pakablingge, 
that  of  Chief  Warrior.  Supported  by  Little  Fox,  he 
led  the  warriors  of  the  tribe,  all  painted  and  equipped 
for  battle. 

Next  came  Mantowesee,  leading  the  hunters,  and 
after  them  Tioma,  wearing  the  most  gorgeous  head- 
dress ever  seen  in  the  village  and  with  an  entirely 
new  set  of  illustrations  covering  his  whole  upper  body. 

A  line  was  soon  formed,  with  the  different  groups 
taking  their  places  in  the  order  named,  the  curtains  of 
the  Council  Chamber  were  drawn  aside,  and  to  the 
solemn  beating  of  drums  and  the  chant  of  the  hymn  of 
triumph,  the  procession,  led  by  Wahwun,  moved  for- 
ward, the  villagers  bringing  up  the  rear. 

At  the  door  of  the  Council  Chamber  Wahwun 
paused  to  raise  his  hands  and  lift  his  face  to  the  sun,  a 
gesture  to  be  followed  by  each  of  the  Arctides  before 
entering  the  Chamber.  Then  he  passed  on,  turning 
squarely  to  the  right  as  he  passed  under  the  arch,  and 
again  to  the  left  when  he  was  on  line  with  the  totem 
pole  of  the  tribe  that  stood  opposite  the  Shield  of  the 
Sun.  As  he  passed  the  Altar  he  raised  his  medicine- 
bag  and  shook  it  fiercely  to  frighten  away  any  evil 
Manitos  that  might  be  lurking  near.  Then  with  a 
suspicious  glance  at  the  small  copper  case  in  which 


138  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

long  ago  had  been  placed  the  Arrow  to  be  sealed  with 
the  mystical  word,  he  passed  on.  Turning  squarely 
again  before  the  great  Shield  of  the  Sun,  Wahwun 
seated  himself  on  a  soft  cushion  of  skins  near  the  east- 
ern enhance,  the  other  Metas  following  his  example. 

The  warriors,  led  by  Wanahta,  turned  to  the  right 
before  the  Shield  of  the  Sun  and  ranged  themselves 
along  the  southern  wall,  quite  filling  the  space  forward 
to  a  line  with  the  Altar.  The  hunters,  led  by  Manto- 
wesee,  forming  in  a  compact  body  on  the  left  of  the 
Altar. 

Tioma,  now  the  head  of  the  procession,  led  the 
people  slowly  around  the  interior  of  the  Chamber,  halt- 
ing at  the  western  entrance.  Thus  in  a  short  time  they 
were  packed  in  a  solid  mass  along  the  northern  wall  as 
far  forward  as  the  center  of  the  room,  the  bright  head- 
feathers  of  the  young  men  rising  here  and  there  above 
the  brown  background  of  the  soft  tanned  robes  of  the 
women. 

Every  foot  of  ground  in  the  interior  of  the  building 
was  now  covered  with  the  exception  of  the  passageway 
and  a  space  about  the  Altar  reserved  to  the  Prophet 
Minno  and  his  immediate  relatives.  Outside,  the  peo- 
ple gathered  as  closely  to  the  entrances  as  they  could 
get,  until  there  was  not  standing-room  sufficient  for  an 
arrow's  flight,  either  to  the  east  or  the  west  of  the 
Council  Chamber. 

All  this  time  not  a  word  had  been  spoken;  the  most 


The  Arrow  of  the  Sun  139 

perfect  order  prevailed  everywhere;  the  low  roll  of  the 
ceremonial  drum  and  the  rhythmic  swish  of  light  moc- 
casined  feet  passing  over  the  skins  laid  on  the  floor  of 
the  Chamber  accentuating  rather  than  disturbing  the 
solemn  silence. 

Soon  even  these  sounds  were  hushed,  for  Minno  had 
entered  the  hall  from  the  east,  arrayed  in  the  ceremo- 
nial robes  of  his  high  office.  Approaching  the  Altar 
of  Hasihta,  the  old  prophet  paused  and  with  uplifted 
face  invoked  the  blessing  of  the  Sun.  Then  taking 
his  place  behind  the  Altar  he  stood  erect,  looking  with 
soulful  eyes  upon  the  expectant  people. 

Following  him  came  Pakoble,  a  proud,  glad  light  in 
her  eyes,  and  by  her  side  walked  Singing  Bird,  her  fair 
skin  and  red-brown  tresses  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
bronze  faces  and  straight  black  hair  of  all  the  others. 

After  invoking  the  blessing  of  the  Sun,  Pakoble  and 
the  fair  child  went  to  stand  near  Memee,  who  occupied 
a  point  of  vantage  a  little  in  advance  of  the  front  rows, 
facing  the  Altar. 

And  now  Waupello  came.  How  brave  and  noble 
he  looked  as  he  moved  quietly  forward  to  the  Altar 
and  held  up  his  fine  young  face  for  the  blessing!  About 
his  lithe,  supple  figure  the  sacred  cloak  of  white  beaver 
clung  in  graceful  folds;  a  chaplet  of  wampum  was  bound 
about  his  shapely  head,  and  on  his  breast  hung  a  glit- 
tering Shield  of  the  Sun,  But  all  this  was  forgotten 
when,  standing  erect  beside  the  Altar,  he  looked  into 


140  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

the  faces  of  the  almost  breathless  people.  There  was 
a  glory  in  his  gaze  that  sent  a  thrill  to  every  heart,  and 
a  sigh  that  was  felt  more  than  heard  trembled  on  the 
air — a  great  unworded  prayer  of  love  and  hope  and 
supplication. 

Something  now,  or  hearts  will  break.  Minno  felt 
this,  and  raised  his  hands  appealingly  to  heaven.  Then 
slowly  the  boy  turned  toward  the  casket,  and  meekly 
bowing  his  head,  whispered  the  word.  Silently,  slowly, 
the  seal  of  the  Sun  upon  the  casket  parted,  silently  the 
lid  lifted  until  the  interior  of  the  casket  stood  revealed. 
Tremblingly  the  boy  raised  his  eyes;  reverently  he 
reached  forth  his  hand.  Then  an  ashen  pallor  swept 
over  the  delicate  bronze  cheek  and  a  look  of  anguish 
leaped  into  his  expectant  eyes. 

"Minno!  the  Arrow  is  gone!" 

Like  the  cry  of  a  stricken  hare  the  heartbroken 
wail  struck  upon  the  ears  of  the  people.  There  was  an 
instant  of  silence,  followed  by  a  fluttering  sigh.  Then 
came  a  fearful  choking  sound,  as  though  fingers  of 
steel  were  clutching  at  every  throat.  The  last  hope  of 
a  stricken  nation  had  been  snatched  from  its  grasp  and 
the  blood  was  freezing  in  the  veins  of  the  people. 

The  revulsion  came,  and  a  sudden  desire  for  venge- 
ance set  fire  to  the  tense  nerves  and  flamed  from  the 
overstrained  eyes.  The  nation  had  been  cheated  of 
its  destiny  and  demanded  a  victim  in  return. 

The  people  were  beginning  to  stir  now,  not  like 


The  Arrow  of  the  Sun  141 

human  beings,  but  like  beasts  of  prey,  cautiously,  rest- 
lessly. Their  eyes  fell  on  Panaqui,  who  had  glided 
forward  into  the  open  space,  and  a  voice  cried  hoarsely: 

"Panaqui!  the  Crooked  One,  he  is  an  evil  spirit!" 

"Let  him  be  burned!  the  Crooked  One!  the  Crooked 
One!"  demanded  another. 

The  restless  movement  increased,  and  the  face  of 
the  dwarf  grew  livid,  while  his  repulsive  chin  quivered 
with  fear.  He  knew  the  temper  of  the  people  and  rec- 
ognized the  danger  he  was  in.  Suddenly  his  eyes  fell 
on  Singing  Bird,  and  pointing  his  long  hairy  finger  at 
the  fair  child,  he  cried: 

"  Not  Panaqui  but  the  Singing  Bird  is  the  bad 
Manito.  Panaqui  is  an  Indian." 

The  result  was  instantaneous.  Here  was  a  tangible 
clew  to  the  overthrow  of  their  high  hopes.  An  alien, 
a  waif  from  an  unknown  country,  differing  from  them 
in  every  way,  a  bad  Manito  indeed. 

With  the  snarl  of  hungry  wolves,  a  hundred  men 
strained  forward,  stretching  out  fierce  hands  to  grasp 
the  fair  child.  Women  shrieked  and  gibbered  and 
cried  out  for  her  blood. 

"  To  the  names  with  the  bad  Manito!"  screamed  the 
Old  One,  her  white  teeth  glistening  between  her  blue, 
parched  lips.  Anything  to  turn  the  minds  of  the  peo- 
ple from  her  son.  "  Have  you  forgotten  how  pleased 
the  Great  Spirit  was  with  the  white  doe?  Here  is 
another  ready  for  the  sacrifice.  Let  the  cedar  logs  be 


142  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

made  ready!  When  the  bad  Manito  is  gone,  the  Arrow 
will  return." 

The  reference  to  the  loss  of  the  Arrow  completed 
the  delirium  that  had  seized  on  the  people,  and  the 
cries  for  the  life  of  Singing  Bird  became  a  roar  that 
shook  the  Council  Chamber. 

Minno,  broken  in  body  and  in  spirit,  hurried  from 
the  Altar  to  face  the  maddened  crowd.  But  even  the 
loved  prophet  was  swept  aside  in  the  mad  frenzy. 

Singing  Bird,  running  to  the  side  of  Waupello,  clung 
to  his  hand,  pale  and  trembling  with  fright.  Wanahta, 
snatching  a  sacred  spear  from  behind  the  Altar,  faced 
the  howling  multitude  like  a  stag  at  bay.  Pakoble  lay 
like  one  dead  in  the  arms  of  Mantowesee. 

But  suddenly  above  the  howls  and  shrieks  and  fierce 
demands  for  blood  there  rose,  like  the  clear  notes  of 
the  flute  he  loved  so  well,  the  voice  of  Waupello. 

"  Hark,  Children  of  Arctides!  Hark  to  the  words 
of  the  Spirit!" 

Firm  and  sweet  the  youthful  tones  rang  out  distinct 
but  sweet  above  the  tumult. 

"Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  Spirit!  The  word  that 
opened  the  casket  is  as  strong  on  the  lips  of  the  Evil 
as  on  the  lips  of  the  Good.  The  Singing  Bird,  free  in 
the  forest,  has  never  a  thought  that  could  harm  you. 
The  free  serpent  gives  you  fair  warning;  'tis  the  serpent 
you  tread  on  that  stings.  And  if  there  be  one  of  Arc- 
tides  who  never  did  wrong  to  a  brother,  let  him  stand 


"HARK  TO  THE  VOICE  OP  THE  SPIRIT  !  . .  ..  THE  SINGING 
BIRD  HAS  NEVER  A  THOUGHT  THAT  COULD  HARM  YOU." 


The  Arrow  of  the  Sun  143 

forth  by  the  Altar.  He  shall  have  the  fair  child  to  the 
flames." 

Sweetly  solemn  the  clear  voice  rose  and  swelled  and 
floated  away  over  the  heads  of  the  people,  standing 
dumbly  now,  stilled,  they  knew  not  why.  And  when 
the  words  had  died  away  in  the  distance,  the  melody  of 
them  remained  to  fill  the  Council  Chamber  with  a 
music  strange  and  soothing. 

Then  one  after  another  the  listeners  went  quietly 
out  of  the  Chamber,  even  to  Minno,  the  prophet. 
And  the  Child  of  the  Sun  stood  alone  by  the  empty 
casket. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ALL  VOICES   MERGE   IN   ONE 

A  dull  apathy  settled  upon  the  tribe  after  the 
terrible  scene  in  the  Council  Chamber.  The  people 
still  hunted  and  fished,  made  pots,  and  wove  grass  and 
rushes,  but  they  did  it  all  in  a  hopeless,  spiritless  sort 
of  way  that  told  plainly  enough  how  numb  their  hearts 
were.  Their  anticipations  had  been  so  keen  and  the 
blow  had  been  so  sudden  that  these  children  of  nature 
must  have  been  more  than  human  not  to  have  been 
deadened  by  the  stroke.  It  was  not  surprising  that 
their  exaltation,  which  had  continued  through  the  week 
of  the  Supreme  Feast  and  culminated  in  the  mysterious 
opening  of  the  casket,  should  have  been  changed 
to  sudden  madness  at  the  betrayal  of  their  hopes.  A 
frightened  herd  of  deer  will  turn  to  rend  and  trample 
to  death  one  of  its  number  wounded  in  the  flight. 
Overstrained  nerves  are  sensitive,  and  the  nerves  as 
well  as  the  hearts  of  Arctides  had  been  sorely  tried. 

Minno  had  become  suddenly  old.  The  words  pro- 
claiming the  loss  of  the  Arrow  had  pierced  his  soul  and 
broken  his  proud  spirit.  His  trust  in  the  Great  Spirit 
was  so  implicit  so  simple,  so  childlike,  that  he  could  not 


All  Voices  Merge  in  One  145 

understand  the  absence  of  the  Arrow  from  the  casket. 
He  did  not  lose  faith  in  the  Merciful  Father,  because 
that  was  impossible  to  one  who  had  so  long  felt  the 
dear  heart  of  nature  beating  warmly  against  his  own. 
He  could  not  doubt,  because  he  had  witnessed  the 
parting  of  the  seal  and  the  lifting  of  the  lid  in  obedience 
to  the  word  upon  the  lips  of  Waupello.  He  remem- 
bered too  the  voice  of  Shangadaya  calling  in  the  Coun- 
cil Chamber,  "An  evil  spirit  has  taken  the  Arrow,"  and 
he  would  grope  blindly  toward  some  solution  of  the 
mystery. 

Pakoble,  with  the  true  instincts  of  a  mother-heart, 
laid  hold  of  the  words  of  Waupello,  and  repeated  them 
over  and  over  to  herself,  feeling  sure  that  they  held  the 
key  to  the  secret. 

"  The  serpent  that  is  free  gives  you  warning,  'tis  the 
serpent  you  tread  on  that  stings."  What  was  it  in  the 
brief  sentences  that  stilled  the  tumult  and  sent  the 
people  shamefaced  away?  Pakoble  recognized  the 
inherent  force  of  the  words  and  felt  certain  they 
referred  in  some  way  to  Shangadaya  and  Panaqui. 
But  that  was  as  far  as  she  could  go. 

Whatever  Waupello  knew  or  felt,  he  kept  his  own 
counsel.  The  absence  of  the  Arrow  from  the  casket 
had  given  him  a  great  shock,  but  in  the  scene  of  fury 
that  followed  he  seemed  to  have  caught  at  least  a 
portion  of  the  truth,  and  in  a  few  simple  words  to  have 
conveyed  it  to  others,  even  in  their  madness. 


146  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

But  whatever  he  knew  or  suspected,  he  gave  no 
sign,  but  wandered  about  the  woods,  breathing  tender 
melodies  into  his  flute  or  sat  thoughtfully  silent  on  the 
high  cliff  overlooking  the  river. 

Minno  was  Waupello's  confidant,  but  not  even  to 
him  did  the  boy  say  more  than  served  to  cheer  and 
comfort  the  broken-hearted  old  man. 

One  day,  after  a  long  talk  with  Minno,  Waupello 
went  into  the  forest,  and  building  with  his  own  hands 
an  altar  of  stone,  he  laid  upon  it  the  boughs  of  red 
cedar  and  spruce.  When  the  fire  was  burning,  he 
sprinkled  upon  it  the  dust  of  pure  tobacco  as  a  peace 
offering  to  the  Great  Spirit.  Then  holding  up  his  face 
for  the  blessing  of  the  Sun,  he  laid  upon  the  flames  the 
beautiful  flute  that  had  now  become  the  voice  of  his 
soul.  It  was  his  first  great  self-sacrifice;  and  when  the 
cruel  flames  ate  into  the  polished  wood  that  had  for 
so  long  received  his  confidences,  the  boy's  heart  sank 
within  him  and  he  groaned  aloud,  while  his  fingers 
beat  trembling  measures  on  the  empty  air.  Then  he 
knew  why  the  Great  Spirit  had  demanded  the  sacrifice 
of  the  flute,  and  he  began  to  chant  in  his  own  voice  a 
song  of  sorrow  which  had  lain  mute  in  his  heart  since 
he  was  a  boy. 

So  Waupello  found  another  voice,  or  received  back 
the  voice  of  his  boyhood,  and  with  it  a  greater  and  more 
perfect  appreciation  of  the  human  things  of  life. 

He  now  found  himself  singing  the  songs  he  had 


HE   LAID   UPON   THE    FLAMES   THE   BEAUTIFUL    FLUTE   THAT 
HAD   NOW   BECOME   THE   VOICE    OF    HIS   SOUL. 


All  Voices  Merge  in  One  147 

learned  in  childhood,  the  rhythmic  chorus  of  the  hunt 
or  the  weird  strains  of  the  war-dance.  He  hunted  up 
Wanahta,  too,  and  borrowing  a  bow  and  a  quiver  filled 
with  arrows,  he  went  out  to  hunt  on  the  broad  prairie. 

Again  he  joined  the  javelin-throwers  on  the  Com- 
mon Ground,  ran  races  with  Mantowesee,  and  wrestled 
with  the  sinewest  youths  of  the  tribe.  The  childlike 
pleasures  of  Pakoble's  tepee  were  renewed,  and  he  took 
great  delight  in  bringing  the  laughter  to  his  mother's 
lips  or  challenging  the  wit  and  fun  of  Singing  Bird. 
All  the  ordinary  pursuits  and  employments  of  his  boy- 
hood Waupello  enjoyed  now  with  a  new  understanding, 
and  life  flowed  on  evenly  and  smoothly  again. 

But  withal  he  did  not  forget  the  prophecy  nor  give 
over  his  plans  for  destroying  the  Piasau. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE  FIGHT  ON  THE  CLIFF 

Waupello  grew  once  more  sturdy  and  strong.  The 
tan  of  wind  and  sun  deepened  the  rich  bronze  of  his 
complexion  and  his  eyes  glowed  and  sparkled  with  the 
joy  of  healthful  life.  He  climbed  the  hills  and  followed 
the  trail  with  Mantowesee,  or  made  long  journeys  to 
the  border  lands  of  Arctides  to  see  that  the  Ojibwas 
did  not  encroach  upon  the  hunting-grounds  of  the 
Children  of  the  Sun. 

He  made  for  himself  a  new  bow  from  a  piece  of 
second-growth  hickory  that  had  been  seasoning  in  the 
lodge  of  Wanahta  almost  since  Waupello  was  born. 
The  bow  was  strung  with  the  sinews  of  the  wildcat  shot 
by  Wanahta  the  day  preceding  the  Supreme  Festival. 
The  old  men  gave  Waupello  their  most  perfectly 
chipped  flints  for  his  arrow-heads,  and  Singing  Bird 
helped  him  to  feather  them  with  tips  of  eagle-plumes. 
His  rawhide  quiver  she  decorated  with  many  fanciful 
designs,  and  trimmed  the  thongs  by  which  it  was  to 
hang  over  his  shoulders  with  strings  of  precious 
wampum. 

"  When  the  Arrow  of  the  Sun  is  fitted  to  his  bow- 
148 


The  Fight  on  the  Cliff  149 

string  Waupello  will  have  nothing  more  to  wish  for," 
cried  the  youth  to  his  mother  when  his  equipment  was 
finally  completed  and  they  had  all  gathered  round  to 
admire  it. 

A  shade  of  sadness  swept  over  the  mother's  face  as 
the  scene  in  the  Council  Chamber  rose  before  her,  but 
she  pressed  the  hands  of  her  handsome  son,  and  gazed 
proudly  and  lovingly  into  his  honest,  fearless  eyes. 

"  When  Waupello  goes  again  for  the  Wonderful 
Arrow,"  cried  Singing  Bird,  "he  need  not  look  to  see 
the  White  Sister  among  his  admirers.  She  has  no 
wish  to  be  burned  for  the  pleasure  of  the  Old  One  and 
her  crooked  son,  Panaqui,"  and  with  a  light  laugh  the 
happy-hearted  girl  threw,  spear-wise,  an  eagle's  feather 
straight  at  the  head  of  Waupello.  The  shot  was  a  good 
one,  and  would  have  struck  home  had  not  Waupello 
dodged  quickly  aside. 

"The  Singing  Bird  should  enter  the  lists  in  the 
game  of  javelins,"  cried  the  boy.  "  There  'she  might 
win  all  the  darts  in  the  village." 

"And  give  them  to  Waupello,  who  has  none  of  his 
own,  but  must  borrow  from  Wanahta  and  Mantowesee," 
gayly  replied  the  fair  child,  shaking  her  loosely  bound 
hair  until  it  shone  again. 

"  Is  the  son  of  Strongheart  preparing  to  make  war 
on  the  Ojibwas,  that  he  is  trimming  his  bow  and  quiver 
with  the  plumes  of  the  eagle?"  roared  Tioma,  thrusting 
his  decorated  head  and  shoulders  into  the  lodge. 


150  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

"  Not  to-day,  Big  Voice,"  said  the  boy.  "  Sometime 
Waupello  may  lead  the  warriors  against  the  enemies  of 
his  people  in  defense  of  their  liberties,  but  to-day  we 
go  to  the  woods  to  be  with  the  birds  and  squirrels. 
If  Tioma  has  a  new  tale  to  tell  he  may  come  with 
us." 

"Do,  do,  good  Tioma!"  cried  Singing  Bird,  clapping 
her  hands  together  and  dancing  coaxingly  about  Big 
Voice.  "  You  shall  have  all  the  dried  berries  and  corn- 
cakes  reserved  for  Singing  Bird  if  you  will  come." 

Tioma  willingly  accepted  the  invitation,  for  besides 
being  fond  of  dried  berries  and  corn-cakes,  his  huge 
chest  was  swelling  with  a  tale  he  had  invented  over- 
night, and  with  which  he  hoped  to  win  new  laurels,  as 
well  as  cakes  and  fruit. 

Everything  was  soon  in  readiness,  and  Pakoble, 
Waupello,  Singing  Bird,  and  Tioma  started  on  the 
jaunt.  But  first  they  went  to  call  on  Minno  and  tell 
him  of  their  prospective  outing,  as  well  as  to  see  that 
he  lacked  nothing  for  his  comfort.  The  old  prophet 
was  feeble  now,  and  rarely  left  his  lodge  except  to  take 
part  in  the  religious  ceremonies,  so  that  they  could  not 
hope  to  coax  him  from  his  lodge. 

On  their  way  through  the  village  they  were  joined 
by  Wanahta  and  Meeme,  and  in  the  pleasant  spring 
weather  the  happy  little  party  passed  into  the  shade  of 
the  forest. 

The  squirrels  welcomed  them  with  much  chattering 


The  Fight  on  the  Cliff  151 

and  frisking  of  bushy  tails;  the  rabbis  left  off  nibbling 
the  tender  leaves  to  run  beside  them,  or  sat  up  on  their 
haunches  looking  at  them  curiously  out  of  big,  solemn 
eyes. 

It  was  a  joyous  day  of  the  most  joyous  season  of 
the  year,  and  the  friends  whom  triumphs  and  defeats 
had  bound  together  so  closely  forgot  for  the  time  that 
evil  had  ever  been  in  the  world. 

Then  they  saw  Panaqui  under  a  tangle  of  vines,  and 
a  different  look  came  into  Waupello's  face,  and  he  ran 
toward  the  Crooked  One,  crying: 

"The  Arrow,  Panaqui;  give  me  the  Arrow  of  the 
Sun!"  But  the  dwarf  slipped  into  the  vines  and  disap- 
peared. Waupello's  companions  were  curious  to  know 
the  cause  of  his  demanding  the  Arrow  of  Panaqui,  but 
forbore  to  question  him,  and  the  incident  was  soon 
forgotten  in  the  pleasant  excitement  of  the  day. 

The  afternoon  was  wellnigh  spent,  and  Tioma  was 
about  to  begin  his  new  story,  when  they  saw  Mantowe- 
see  running  toward  them,  crying  in  a  low,  frightened 
voice,  "  The  Piasau!  the  Piasau!" 

Consternation  seized  on  the  hearts  of  the  little 
group  that  only  a  moment  before  had  been  filled  with 
happiness,  and  drawing  about  the  young  hunter  they 
waited  breathlessly  for  the  name  of  the  Monster's  latest 
victim. 

It  proved  to  be  Little  Fox.  He  had  been  gone 
from  the  village  but  a  short  time  when  he  was  found 


152  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

dead,  with  a  look  upon  his  face  which  told  only  too  truly 
of  the  return  of  the  Bird  of  Evil. 

So  deeply  interested  were  the  others  in  Mantowe- 
see's  recital  of  the  tragedy,  that  for  some  moments  they 
did  not  notice  the  absence  of  Waupello.  When  they 
came  to  search  for  him  he  could  nowhere  be  found. 

Anguish  seized  the  heart  of  Pakoble,  and  all  feared, 
they  knew  not  what.  Loudly  they  called  upon  Wau- 
pello, but  no  answer  came  to  cheer  their  listening  ears, 
and  only  the  echoes  replied,  "  Waupello." 

So  the  little  band,  heavy-hearted  and  overcome  by 
this  additional  sorrow,  retraced  their  steps  to  the 
village,  from  which  they  had  so  recently  come  with 
laughter  and  song. 

The  return  of  the  Piasau  filled  Waupello  with  rage 
such  as  he  had  never  before  known.  WThen  he  had 
heard  what  Mantowesee  had  to  say  of  the  death  of 
Little  Fox  a  stern  look  came  into  the  boy's  eyes,  and 
turning  quickly  about  he  strode  away  into  the  forest. 
He  had  always  had  a  horror  of  the  Piasau,  but  now  he 
felt  that  had  not  some  evil  spirit  thwarted  him  he  might 
ere  this  have  destroyed  the  Evil  Bird,  and  he  hated  it 
with  an  indescribable  fury,  and  burned  with  a  mad 
desire  to  find  the  one  who  had  desecrated  the  casket 
and  either  secure  the  Arrow  or  be  revenged  on  the 
thief. 

"  If  I  might  only  find  the  Arrow!"  he  cried.  Then 
he  ran  on  and  on,  taking  no  note  of  where  he  was 


The  Fight  on  the  Cliff  153 

going,  until  he  found  himself  on  a  bluff  that  rose 
abruptly  to  the  east.  He  climbed  the  declivity  and 
stood  at  last  upon  a  single  flat  rock,  not  much  larger 
than  a  buffalo-hide,  that  projected  over  the  face  of 
the  cliff. 

Far  below  ran  the  Long  River,  dimpling  and  smil- 
ing in  the  sun.  From  its  farther  shore  stretched  the 
receding  prairie,  green  with  the  new  grass  of  the 
spring. 

It  was  a  pleasant  view,  and  Waupello  stood  for  a 
moment  on  the  eminence  to  enjoy  it.  But  the  memory 
of  the  cruel  Piasau  returned  to  drive  every  pleasant 
thought  from  his  mind,  and  again  he  cried  aloud: 

"  If  only  I  could  find  the  Arrow!" 

As  if  in  response  to  his  exclamation,  a  small  stone 
struck  at  his  feet,  rolled  over  the  edge  of  the  rock  and 
shot  down  to  the  ragged  shore  below.  Waupello, 
noting  its  fall,  tried  to  imagine  what  the  sensation 
would  be  if  the  stone  were  a  quick  instead  of  a  dead 
thing.  Then  wondering  from  whence  it  came,  he 
turned  to  behold  the  dwarf,  Panaqui,  a  deer's  length 
away,  stooping  as  if  preparing  to  spring  upon  him.  The 
big  hairy  arms  of  the  Crooked  One  were  drawn  back 
close  to  his  breast  and  his  short  muscular  legs  were 
bent  under  him,  ready  to  throw  the  whole  weight  of  his 
ugly  body  against  the  unresisting  figure  of  the  boy. 

Waupello  thought  of  the  stone  in  its  rapid  descent 
from  the  cliff,  and  for  an  instant  his  brain  reeled  and 


154  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

a  black  shadow  fell  over  his  eyes.  Then  the  scene  in 
the  Council  Chamber  came  back  to  him,  and  he  seemed 
to  hear  again  the  harsh  voice  of  the  Crooked  One 
demanding  the  life  of  Singing  Bird. 

He  heard,  too,  the  words  of  the  Spirit  he  had 
spoken  then  without  a  clear  knowledge  of  their  mean- 
ing, and  as  they  flashed  into  his  brain  he  knew  the 
truth. 

"The  Arrow,  Panaqui,"  he  cried,  fiercely;  "the 
Arrow  of  the  Sun!" 

"  Do  you  think  Panaqui  a  fool,  like  Tioma,  that  he 
is  pleased  to  do  the  bidding  of  the  Arctides  for  a  hand- 
ful of  berries  and  a  cup  of  water?  The  Piasau  is  safe 
to  feed  on  the  hated  Arctides.  Panaqui  will  keep  the 
Arrow." 

Waupello  felt  a  furious  desire  to  catch  up  the  grin- 
ning dwarf  and  shake  the  secret  from  him,  but  his 
better  nature  triumphed,  and  he  said  quietly: 

"If  Panaqui  will  restore  the  Arrow,  he  may  go 
where  he  chooses.  The  Arctides  will  then  gladly  give 
him  his  liberty." 

"  And  make  him  straight  and  tall  like  Wanahta,  or 
lithe  and  fleet  like  Waupello,"  sneered  the  Crooked 
One. 

"That  they  cannot  do." 

"  Neither  then  can  Panaqui  restore  the  Arrow." 

"  What  if  Waupello  should  take  it,"  cried  the  boy, 
moving  a  step  nearer  the  Crooked  One. 


The  Fight  on  the  Cliff  155 

"  Not  while  Panaqui  lives,"  and  with  the  snarl  of  a 
rabid  wolf  Panaqui  threw  himself  upon  Waupello  in  an 
effort  to  force  him  over  the  face  of  the  cliff. 

Lithe  and  supple  as  a  panther,  trained  in  all  the 
sports  of  the  Common  Ground,  as  well  as  in  the  dangers 
of  the  chase,  Waupello  was  a  match  for  any  ordinary 
antagonist.  But  the  dwarf,  while  much  beneath  him  in 
height,  was  big  and  strong  of  body,  and  his  long  hairy 
arms  were  knotted  with  muscles  like  the  trunk  of  a 
black  oak  tree. 

The  two  came  together  near  the  center  of  the  rock, 
but  the  force  of  the  dwarf's  spring  crowded  Waupello 
backward  so  far  that  as  he  bent  to  get  a  better  hold  of 
Panaqui's  misshapen  body  Waupello  could  plainly  see 
the  shore-line  far  below  them  as  they  hung  over  the 
projecting  rock.  But  his  young  limbs  were  firm  and 
hard  with  recent  training,  and  the  spirit  of  his  many 
fastings  and  vigils  gave  additional  strength  to  his 
youthful  frame;  his  brain  was  cool  and  his  nerve  steady 
as  he  clung  to  the  rock  and  pulled  himself  free  of  the 
dwarf's  embrace. 

Again  they  clinched,  and  Waupello,  forcing  his 
hand  under  Panaqui's  left  arm  and  across  the  small  of 
his  back,  grasped  the  right  arm  of  the  Crooked  One  in 
a  firm  grip.  Then  with  a  quick  turn  of  his  supple  body 
he  drew  Panaqui  around  so  that  they  were  back  to 
back.  The  dwarf  sought  frantically  to  reach  the 
slender  throat  of  his  antagonist  with  his  free  hand, 


156  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

knowing  well  the  advantage  such  a  grip  with  his  long 
knotted  fingers  would  give  him. 

But  Waupello  stooped  quickly  forward,  raising  the 
dwarf  clear  of  the  ground;  then  catching  one  of  the 
short  legs  by  the  ankle  he  whirled  the  body  upward. 
There  was  the  sound  of  breaking  bones,  a  fierce  gasp, 
a  howl  of  rage  and  pain,  and  then  Waupello,  lifting  the 
body  of  the  Crooked  One  high  above  his  head,  hurled 
it  over  the  cliff.  As  the  form  of  Panaqui  shot  out  into 
space  there  was  a  musical  ring  on  the  rock,  and  looking 
down  Waupello  saw  lying  at  his  feet  the  Arrow  of  the 
Sun. 


WAUPELLO,     LIFTING    THE     BODY     CF     THE     CROOKED     ONE 
HIGH    ABOVE   HIS   HEAD,    HURLED   IT   OVER   THE   CLIFF. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  DEATH  OF  THE  PIASAU 

There  was  joy  in  the  village  of  Arctides  when  Wau- 
pello  came  upon  the  Common  Ground  and  announced 
that  at  last  he  had  possession  of  the  Wonderful  Arrow. 
It  now  seemed  certain  the  hated  Piasau  was  to  be  de- 
stroyed, and  everybody  went  about  with  a  smiling  face 
and  beaming  eyes. 

Minno,  to  whom  Waupello  had  first  related  the 
good  news,  seemed  to  have  grown  strangely  young 
again,  and  was  now  constantly  to  be  seen  in  the  Coun- 
cil Chamber  or  at  the  feasts  of  thanksgiving  that  were 
being  celebrated  in  the  village  of  Arctides. 

Wanahta  and  Mantowesee  seemed  to  be  everywhere 
at  once,  shouting  with  the  hunters,  chanting  with  the 
warriors,  or  leaping  and  dancing  with  the  children,  to 
whom  this  unusual  festival  was  as  surprising  as  it  was 
welcome. 

Tioma  roared  the  story  of  Waupello's  heroic 
achievement  before  every  tepee,  and  Wahwun  shook 
his  medicine-bag  and  looked  as  wise  and  consequen- 
tial as  if  he,  and  not  Waupello,  were  the  hero  of  the 
occasion. 

157 


158  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

Pakoble's  joy  was  too  sacred  for  the  general  eye, 
and  she  sat  in  her  lodge  looking  with  wondering  eyes 
upon  Waupello  whenever  he  was  with  her,  and  softly 
murmuring  his  praises  when  he  was  beyond  the  sound 
of  her  voice. 

Singing  Bird  was  the  only  one  who  refused  to 
lionize  her  old  playmate;  and  while  in  her  heart  she 
gloried  in  his  strength  and  courage,  she  pretended  to 
think  but  lightly  of  his  latest  achievement,  and  tossing 
her  golden  head,  said,  teasingly,  that  she  could  have 
done  quite  as  well  herself,  if  she  had  only  been  con- 
sulted. 

The  joy  was  so  universal  and  so  complete  that  the 
people  lost  sight  of  the  danger  to  Waupello.  Their 
faith  in  the  Great  Spirit  was  absolute,  and  their  prayers 
having  been  answered  so  far,  they  did  not  waver  in 
their  belief  that  Waupello  would  emerge  unharmed  and 
victorious  in  his  eventual  encounter  with  the  Piasau. 

Waupello  immediately  set  about  making  careful 
preparations  for  the  destruction  of  the  Bird  of  Evil. 
He  first  saw  to  it  that  his  bow  was  perfect  in  shape  and 
fiber  and  that  the  cord  was  the  very  best  that  could  be 
made.  With  Minno  he  went  to  the  foot  of  the  great 
cliff  where  the  Piasau  dwelt.  The  cave  in  which  the 
Bird  of  Evil  was  supposed  to  make  its  nest  was  midway 
in  the  perpendicular  face  of  an  immense  rock  that  rose 
from  a  shelf  in  the  face  of  the  cliff,  nearly  an  arrow's 
flight  from  the  beach  below. 


The  Death  of  the  Piasau  159 

To  reach  this  shelf  by  scaling  the  face  of  the  cliff 
was  impossible,  and  Waupello,  in  order  that  he  might 
attack  the  monster  in  its  stronghold,  decided  to  be 
lowered  from  the  top  of  the  cliff  by  means  of  leather 
thongs.  Minno  and  Pakoble  were  not  inclined  to  favor 
this  plan,  and  pleaded  with  the  boy  to  wait  until  the 
Piasau  came  forth  of  his  own  accord,  when  he  might  be 
destroyed  with  less  danger  to  Waupello.  But  Waupello, 
now  that  the  Arrow  was  in  his  hands,  would  listen  to  no 
suggestion  of  delay,  and  the  others  were  forced  to 
abide  by  his  decision. 

Wanahta  and  Mantowesee  therefore  set  to  work 
braiding  a  cable  of  the  strands  of  the  deerskin,  with 
which  to  lower  Waupello  to  the  shelf  in  midair.  Sev- 
eral days  were  required  for  this  task,  but  finally  it  was 
completed,  and  the  long,  slender  cord  that  would  have 
sustained  the  weight  of  a  buffalo  bull  was  brought  to 
Waupello. 

Meanwhile,  the  building  of  the  canoes,  which  had 
ceased  with  the  loss  of  the  Arrow,  was  once  more 
resumed,  for  the  Arctides  were  confident  Waupello  had 
told  them  nothing  but  truth,  and  they  looked  anxiously 
forward  to  the  day  when  they  should  embark  for  the 
journey  to  the  land  of  perpetual  summer. 

Early  one  morning  Waupello  arose,  and  after  re- 
ceiving the  blessing  of  the  sun  and  burning  incense  to 
the  Great  Spirit,  he  took  the  Wonderful  Arrow  and 
stole  quietly  out  of  the  lodge  without  awakening  Minno. 


160  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

At  the  outskirts  of  the  village  he  found  Wanahta  and 
Mantowesee  waiting  for  him,  carrying  his  deerskin 
cable,  and  without  a  word  the  three  went  away  through 
the  forest  toward  the  cliff  where  dwelt  the  Piasau. 
Waupello  had  told  no  one  on  which  day  he  had  decided 
to  attack  the  monster,  so  that  provided  he  was  unable 
to  find  the  bird  the  people  would  not  suffer  another 
disappointment. 

But  Singing  Bird,  who  was  always  up  with  the  birds, 
saw  the  three  friends  going  through  the  forest,  Wanahta 
carrying  the  cable  and  Mantowesee  the  bow  of  Wau- 
pello, and  divining  their  mission,  she  ran  to  the  village 
to  tell  Pakoble.  As  Singing  Bird  passed  the  medicine- 
man's lodge  she  almost  ran  into  Wahwun  and  Shan- 
gadaya  standing  at  the  entrance  to  the  Chamber  of 
Mysteries.  The  Old  One  was  pleading  and  threaten- 
ing by  turns,  while  the  medicine-man,  shaking  his 
snakeskin  bag  before  him  as  if  for  protection,  was  try- 
ing to  drive  the  witch  away.  The  Old  One,  seeing 
Singing  Bird,  raised  her  staff  threateningly,  and  the 
frightened  child  ran  as  fast  as  she  could  to  the  lodge 
of  Pakoble,  where  she  fell  sobbing  into  the  arms  of 
the  Rose. 

Pakoble  soothed  the  child  and  drew  from  her  the 
story  of  her  morning's  adventure. 

When  the  mother  learned  that  Waupello  had  gone 
to  make  the  attack  on  the  Piasau  her  heart  trembled 


The  Death  of  the  Piasau  161 

with  anxiety  for  his  safety,  for  now  she  realized  fully 
the  danger  of  the  undertaking. 

Shangadaya's  actions  added  to  her  fears,  for  the 
Old  One  had  the  powers  of  a  meta  and  hated  Waupello 
beyond  every  one  else. 

To  Minno  the  Rose  hastened  to  repeat  what  Sing- 
ing Bird  had  told  her,  and  soon  the  villagers  were  made 
aware  of  the  importance  of  the  hour,  and  assembled  to 
renew  their  offerings  and  plead  with  the  Great  Spirit 
for  the  boy's  success. 

Having  finished  this  duty,  they  went  quietly  but 
hopefully  to  the  beach  below  the  cliff,  wherein  the  den 
of  the  Piasau  was,  and  turning  their  faces  to  the  sun 
for  the  blessing,  breathlessly  awaited  the  appearance 
of  Waupello. 

Just  as  the  sun  reached  the  zenith  Waupello  ap- 
peared on  the  apex  of  the  cliff.  How  small  and  slender 
he  appeared,  outlined  against  the  sky.  Like  the  voice 
of  the  southwind  a  sigh  went  up  from  the  people 
crowding  the  beach,  the  warriors  trembled  and  the 
women  hid  their  faces.  Those  brave  enough  to  look, 
saw  Waupello  stretch  forth  his  hands  and  lift  his  face 
to  receive  the  blessing.  Then  Wanahta  and  Manto- 
wesee  appeared,  and  after  adjusting  the  noose  about 
Waupello's  body  and  giving  him  his  bow,  they  lowered 
him  over  the  face  of  the  cliff,  and  he  swung  clear  of  the 
rocks,  descending  quickly  to  the  shelf  below. 


i62  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

The  moment  he  felt  the  firm  rock  under  his  feet 
Waupello  cast  off  the  noose,  and  it  was  drawn  up  as  he 
had  ordered.  Then  throwing  aside  his  quiver  which  he 
had  swung  at  his  shoulder,  that  his  every  movement 
might  be  free,  Waupello,  his  beautiful  brown  body 
glistening  in  the  sun,  holding  fast  to  the  Arrow  of  the 
Sun,  turned  his  face  toward  the  cave  where  the  Piasau 
dwelt,  and  cried: 

"Bird  of  Evil,  Waupello  has  come  to  meet  you. 
Waupello,  a  child  of  Hasihta.  Waupello,  a  child  of 
the  Sun!  Come  forth,  O  dreaded  Piasau,  come  forth 
to  the  bow  of  the  morning,  come  forth  to  the  Arrow  of 
light." 

Waupello's  voice  in  its  purity  and  sweetness  fell  like 
drops  of  sparkling  water  on  the  hearts  of  the  people 
far  below,  and  a  sense  of  assured  rest  came  to  them, 
and  they  all  gazed  upward,  confident  of  the  result. 

A  rumble  like  the  tramp  of  many  buffalo  answered 
the  boy's  challenge.  The  sound  was  so  strange  and 
terrible  that  all  the  people  fell  upon  their  faces,  and 
Waupello  alone  stood  up  to  face  the  monster. 

The  roaring  increased  in  volume,  and  then  with  a 
sound  like  the  rushing  of  many  winds,  the  Piasau  darted 
from  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  spreading  its  immense 
green  wings  and  opening  wide  its  hideous  mouth,  it 
reared  its  fearful  form  before  Waupello.  From  its 
eyes  shot  fan-shaped  shafts  of  fire  and  its  teeth  shone 
white  and  murderous  behind  its  grinning  lips. 


The  Death  of  the  Piasau  163 

Then  the  clear-eyed  boy,  standing  fair  and  straight 
in  the  warm  sunshine,  quickly  fitted  the  Arrow  of  the 
Sun  to  his  bowstring,  and  drawing  it  to  the  head  let  fly 
full  in  the  face  of  the  monster. 

The  shaft  sped  straight  to  the  mark,  and  as  it  struck 
against  the  hard  scales  of  the  bird  there  was  a  dazzling 
flash  of  light,  a  quiver  shook  the  giant  form  of  the 
Piasau,  followed  instantly  by  a  dark  red  glow  over  the 
entire  surface  of  the  monster.  The  color  changed 
rapidly  from  red  to  pink,  then  to  pale  blue,  then  to 
white,  until  the  bird  from  tip  to  tip  of  its  widespread 
wings  was  a  transparent  mass  of  liquid  fire.  The  heat 
thrown  off  by  the  glowing  mass  was  so  intense  that 
Waupello's  hair  crisped  and  his  bowstring  snapped 
asunder.  Then  the  light  of  the  bird's  body  changed  to 
a  dull  ashen  color  and  disappeared  altogether,  and 
there  remained  only  a  handful  of  charred  bones  scat- 
tered over  the  rock  where  the  Piasau  had  stood  but  a 
moment  before. 

But  when  Waupello's  eyes,  which  had  been  nearly 
blinded  by  the  heat  and  the  dazzling  light  of  the  burn- 
ing bird,  were  clear  again,  he  saw  seared  deep  into  the 
face  of  the  cliff  where  the  Bird  of  Evil  had  stood  the 
perfect  figure  of  the  Piasau. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE   DEPARTURE 

The  Long  River  was  alive  with  canoes;  from  the 
bend  below  the  cliff  where  the  brook  from  the  Sacred 
Spring  emptied  into  the  river,  the  shore-line  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see  was  bordered  with  canoes.  Now 
down  from  the  village  of  Arctides  came  the  roll  of  the 
ceremonial  drums  and  the  happy  chant  of  thanksgiving. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  music,  and  then  out  of  the 
cool,  green  forest  to  the  pleasant  meadow-land  moved 
the  children  of  Arctides.  At  their  head  marched 
Waupello,  his  robe  of  white  beaver  trailing  gracefully 
from  his  young  shoulders,  his  brows  bound  with  the 
chaplet  of  wampum.  The  prophet  came  next,  erect  and 
strong  again,  his  ceremonial  robes  lending  to  the  old 
man  an  air  of  supreme  majesty.  Mantowesee,  holding 
aloft  the  Shield  of  the  Sun,  walked  in  the  rear  of  the 
prophet. 

Then  came  Pakoble  and  Singing  Bird,  followed  by 
Wanahta  and  Meeme.  Wahwun,  resplendent  in  eagle 
plumes,  buffalo-horns,  and  rich  fur  robes,  and  with  his 
medicine-bag  held  before  him,  moved  proudly  along. 
And  there  was  Tioma,  too,  newly  illustrated  for  the 

164 


The  Departure  165 

occasion,  his  big  voice  sounding  above  all  the  others 
the  glad  chant  of  the  people. 

Following  these  came  a  procession  of  the  faithful 
bearing  on  frames  constructed  of  cedar  and  buffalo- 
hides  the  sacred  relics  of  the  Council  Chamber. 
Others  carried  the  ceremonial  and  war  drums  and 
numerous  gourds  and  skin  rattles,  the  music  of  which 
filled  the  soft  air  with  pleasing  sounds. 

The  imposing  procession  filed  into  the  plain,  the 
people  of  Arctides  bringing  up  the  rear,  chanting  songs 
of  gladness. 

When  Waupello  reached  the  shore  the  procession 
halted,  while  Minno  invoked  the  blessing  of  the  sun. 
Then  Waupello,  stepping  into  the  beautiful  canoe  the 
hands  of  love  had  fashioned,  turned  to  the  people,  and 
lifting  up  his  clear,  sweet  voice  said: 

"Children  of  Arctides,  the  day  of  your  trial  is  over. 
The  future  is  bright  before  you.  The  Bird  of  Evil  is 
slain,  and  your  captive,  who  brought  you  but  grief,  you 
have  sent  her  away  to  her  people. 

"  We  go  to  the  land  of  the  Sun,  to  the  country  of 
fruits  and  of  flowers,  where  the  skies  are  pleasant  and 
smiling,  to  the  land  of  perpetual  summer. 

"  Farewell  to  the  cold  and  the  snow,  farewell  to  the 
land  of  Arctides!" 

Then  all  the  people  embarking  in  their  canoes,  the 
journey  down  the  Long  River  was  begun. 

In  the  canoe  with  Waupello  was  Minno.  Pakoble 


i66  A  Child  of  the  Sun 

and  Singing  Bird.  The  boy,  standing  at  the  prow, 
looked  thoughtfully  back  upon  the  canoes  following  in 
a  long  unbroken  line,  their  moving  paddles  glistening 
in  the  sunlight. 

And  high  over  the  head  of  Waupello  sailed  the  Bird 
of  Beautiful  Plumage,  while  across  the  peaked  prow  of 
his  canoe  shone  the  Word  of  the  Wonderful  One. 


THE    END. 


THE  BOY,  STANDING  AT  THE  PROW,  LOOKED  THOUGHT- 
FULLY BACK  UPON  THE  CANOES  FOLLOWING  IN  A  LONG,  UN- 
BROKEN LINE. 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY 
AND  SONS  COMPANY  AT  THE 
LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


X 


8 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


MAR  l  o  1959 


4 WK  DEC  0? 


«WKJAN06l 


UMJRL    APR  2  5 196 


REC'D  LD-URl 

JAN  181998 

DEC  3  0  2002 
i,uu-  cov 

UCtA  YRL/ILL 
i 


Form  L9-17m-8,'55(B3339s4)444 


WPP 


